Moonlight Cure for a Broken Heart
by marnimg
Summary: Hermione Granger has returned to Hogwarts to reluctantly fill the position of Transfiguration teacher. Nursing a broken heart & battling with the strange feeling of displacement & bad memories, she needs to learn to fall in love with the place she once called home. But with Remus Lupin back in his old post & similarly suffering, they connect in a way they never thought possible...
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Throwing it back to being 13 years old (10 years ago. Ouch.) and going back to my roots of how I got into this whole lark by writing some Harry Potter fanfiction. This feels weird. Or maybe because my life has been so wrapped up in Eren's education that any mild departure leaves me with a feeling of culture shock and separation anxiety. I'll be honest, team; I don't really know what this is going to be. Will I keep writing it? Who knows. Will it take me x-amount of years to complete? Almost definitely. Do I feel unnatural writing HP fanfic again for the first time in years? Absolutely. Love to you all. Have some of whatever this is going to turn out to be. _**

Days at Hogwarts were so long.

Even since returning as a teacher, Hermione had forgotten quite how many hours there were in a day to fill.

She sits in her office now, a stack of marking in front of her, but her eyes are lingering vacantly out of the diamond paned windows to where the sun is setting over the hills.

Hermione sighs and tears her gaze away, looking at the scrolls instead. There were many things that magic could do, but unfortunately, reading and correcting students' essays was not one of them. Instead, she idly waves her wand in the direction of the kettle on the small cooking hob and it begins to whistle merrily.

Getting up, Hermione makes a mug of tea in a disengaged muscle memory rhythm. It's her first year teaching Transfiguration as McGonagall took the position of Head Mistress. The return to Hogwarts had felt bittersweet, and the decision had not been easy, but the distance was sorely needed. Ever since …

Hermione shakes memories out of her head which tug at her with a pain that is duller than it was a few months ago, but hurts nonetheless.

"Professor Granger?" A knock at the door.

Hermione turns round with a start, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she'd forgotten quite where she was.

"Ah," she says with a smile. "Professor Longbottom. Come in, the kettle's just boiled."

"Cheers Hermione," Neville smiles widely and bows his head slightly to avoid the door frame as he steps into her quarters and takes a seat on the chesterfield. "How are you settling in?"

"Better," Hermione smiles as she pulls another mug off the shelf and makes another cup of tea, bringing them both over to her desk. She sits in her plush armchair. "The first few weeks were long. But September always drags."

Neville laughs. "You're not wrong. And how are your classes now?"

Hermione reaches forward for her steaming mug, cradling it carefully in her hands and blowing steam off the top. "They're fine. The Second Years are a handful. They make me feel so _old_."

"I know," Neville sighs. "We're only ten years older than them and I feel like they look at me as if I'm from a different century."

"God," Hermione says. "Who knew you could feel so ancient in your early twenties. These are supposed to be the best years of our life and we're … in here."

"You make it sound like an Azkaban sentence."

Hermione doesn't answer. Sometimes she feels as if it is.

"It's not like we had normal childhoods though," Neville says quietly. "We grew up quicker than this lot."

Hermione nods sadly. "What I want to know is how the hell we used to kill time around here. The days feel like weeks. How did we manage for all of those years?"

Neville shrugs. "We broke rules and chased mass murderers."

"Point taken."

"Besides, we were so enamoured with the castle. Every day brought something new and magical." Neville sits back with a nostalgic smile. "I still feel that way though."

"I don't know how I feel," Hermione admits.

"You need to fall back in love with the place."

"I want to," Hermione says earnestly. "I don't know what's holding me back." They're both quite for a minute, sipping tea and enjoying the comfortable silence. "How did you do it?" Hermione asks quietly. "Come back here, I mean. And fall back in love with the castle."

Neville doesn't answer immediately but studies his oldest friend for a minute. Only 23 but she looks older. Tired. Worn. She's matured into an attractive woman and she holds herself with poise and control. The confidence which was precocious at 13 now feels much more natural a decade later.

After the war, Neville, Hermione and Ginny had returned to continue with their education. Even though Neville had stayed at the castle for his seventh year whilst Hermione was away with Harry and Ron, the disruption of the growing tensions and the eventual war had left him wanting to redo the year with a fresh start. Being in the same year had given Neville and Hermione time to bond and heal together throughout their N.E.W.T.s and their friendship had blossomed.

"I felt like you at first," Neville admits with a smile. "The first week I was here I felt so out of my depth, even in the Herbology greenhouses. I thought I'd made a mistake. Even though we'd come back for our exams, us and Ginny, it still felt so _wrong_ being here alone."

Hermione nods eagerly. "That's _exactly_ how I feel!"

Neville smiles. "But I stuck it out. I love teaching and eventually Hogwarts felt like home again, and I stopped seeing it as a warzone."

Hermione swallows hard. "Sometimes I walk into the Great Hall and I see it as a wreck," she barely whispers. "And then I blink and it's back to normal. Being away for a few years seems to have made me worse."

"It's the distance in your imagination," Neville says calmly. "Your brain has just filled you with the bad memories since you've been gone. But we managed when we came back for seventh year, and we'll manage again now."

Hermione smiles resolutely. "Thank you," she says firmly. "I would really have struggled here without you."

"Any time," Neville reaches over and briefly squeezes her hand.

They finish their tea in a comfortable chatter about students and essays.

Neville stands. "Thanks for the tea. I'll see you for dinner?"

"I'll see you there!"

Neville leaves, closing the door behind him. Hermione is on her own again.

She thinks about their conversation. Neville is right: she needs to fall in love with the castle again. But how? Hermione sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, twisting it up and off her face, securing it with her wand.

Neville and Hermione catch up every now and again and it's good to have someone who understands what she went through and saw. The comfort they take in each other is something neither of them ever outwardly address, but are mutually thankful that it exists.

It's an hour until dinner. Hermione decides to stretch her legs and make an attempt at opening herself back up to Hogwarts. The marking can wait.

She stands decisively, and before she can talk herself out of it, heads out of her office in the tower and down the spiral stairs to the first floor corridor. The late September chill seems to have permeated through every crack in the castle and Hermione begins to regret not bringing her cloak as she wraps her arms around herself. Her skirt moves around her calves but at least her jumper is warm enough.

Down the corridor, Hermione passes through the doors to the Stone Bridge where a gaggle of first years are huddled together for warmth and quickly pass her by. She stands on the bridge and turns to look out over the castle, resting her forearms on the side.

Closing her eyes, Hermione feels the wind whipping her face and tries to concentrate on the feeling of living. Opening them again, she sighs. But Hermione hardens her resolve. There must be something positive. There's _always_ something positive.

Continuing her way along the bridge brings Hermione to the Viaduct Entrance, and relying on her deep rooted knowledge of the castle, which proved slightly rusty in her first week, she makes her way eventually to the Great Hall and hovers a little outside before heading inside and seating herself at the top table in the empty chair between herself and Neville.

"Good evening, Hermione," McGonagall greets her warmly as she sits.

"Evening, Headmistress," Hermione smiles. "Hey Neville."

"Evening Hermione!"

"How are you?" McGonagall asks.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione replies as the students begin to file in with a ring of chatter and laughter. "I'm still trying to get my head around the castle."

McGonagall laughs. "It will come back to you. It's surprising how much you forget after even a few years away."

"It certainly is," Hermione agrees.

"I do have an announcement to make before dinner, but I'm waiting until he arrives. Never on time, that man," McGonagall frowns to herself.

"Who?"

Before she can answer, the Great Hall doors open again and Hermione can't work out whether to laugh or cry.

Making his way up the middle aisle is Remus Lupin, looking as tired and fed up as Hermione feels.

"Lupin?" She says to the Headmistress. "He's back?"

McGonagall smiles and stands to welcome him.

"Remus," she says. "So good to see you. How are you?"

"Always a pleasure, Minerva," he says as polite as ever. He doesn't even notice Hermione at first.

"May I reintroduce you to an old friend who came back to fill my position as Transfiguration professor?"

Finally, Remus' eyes fall to Hermione and they briefly widen. "Hermione?" He says incredulously before composing himself again. "So lovely to see you again."

"You too, Remus," Hermione says. "It's been a while."

"Hello to you as well, Neville," Remus shakes his hand.

"Good to have you with us, Remus," Neville smiles. "What a reunion year we seem to be having!"

"It's really nice to see you, Hermione," Remus says. "Maybe after dinner you could come to my office for a catch up? If you'd like, that is."

Hermione smiles. "That would be great."

Remus opens his mouth to reply but McGonagall has stood to call for silence. Instead, he gives them a final smile and moves to take an empty seat at the end of the long table.

"Good evening, Hogwarts!" She says, the room falling silent. "Don't worry, I'll let you get on with your dinner, but first I would like to introduce you to our newest addition: Professor Remus Lupin who will be filling in the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I know you've been having a temporary teacher since term began, but Professor Lupin is here to stay and I hope you will make him feel very welcome."

There's a ring of applause and Remus stands briefly to acknowledge his introduction before sitting back down.

"Now without further ado," McGonagall claps her hands once and food appears. The First Years still gasp with appreciation. "Enjoy!" She sits back down and the hub of conversation quickly picks up again.

"Did you know he was coming back?" Hermione asks Neville.

"Not a clue," he replies. "It'll be good to have him back, though. Best DADA teacher we ever had."

"Not that it's much of a competition," Hermione mutters as she helps herself to a jacket potato and some salad.

Looking over, she sees Remus chatting to the Care of Magical Creatures professor. It's so strange to see him again. He catches her eye and she quickly looks away again, blushing in embarrassment.

Dinner passes in the usual affair with Hermione chatting to McGonagall and Neville. But in the corner of her eye she can't stop being hyper aware of Remus. There's even a few moments where she _swears_ he's looking at her.

Once the students have dribbled out, the staff begin to leave and Hermione finds herself feeling nervous when she sees that Remus has hung back.

"Hey," she says coming to stand in front of him.

"Hello," he smiles. "If you want to come to my office at around 9? It's not fit for company at the moment. I only arrived a few hours ago. You're more than welcome to join us, Neville?"

"I'm afraid I've got to get back to the greenhouses," Neville says. "I have very little faith that the adolescent Mandrakes haven't been causing a commotion in my absence."

Remus laughs.

"9 o'clock is fine with me," Hermione says. "I'll see you then."

"See you later."

Hermione and Neville leave the Great Hall and she turns to him. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asks, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "I feel awkward going on my own."

Neville looks apologetic. "Sorry, Mione," he says. "I wasn't kidding about the Mandrakes. It'll be nice to catch up!"

"Yeah," Hermione says. "I suppose."

"Anyway – I'm heading to the greenhouses now. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Have a good night, Neville."

"You too!"

She waves at him as he leaves through the front doors before turning to make her own way back to her office to do some marking before going to see Remus.

How long had it been since they spoke, she wonders to herself now. It must have been four years? Nearly five? After the Great War when she went back to Hogwarts, Remus had disappeared to grieve the death of Tonks on his own. Everyone became slightly more insular after the war, focusing on rebuilding the community and their own families.

Life had gone on, but nothing had truly been the same.

Hermione enters the warmth of her office and sits at her desk. There's about an hour to kill and with some food and fresh air inside her, Hermione finds the task of marking to not be as arduous as it had been earlier in the day and busies herself in essays.

Just before 9 o'clock, Hermione finds herself with a pit of unease twisting in the pit of her belly. Remus marks a painful part of her life in a way that Neville doesn't. Neville was part of her healing process, but Remus … wasn't.

It's only one floor up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office and once she enters the classroom, Hermione swallows hard. Images flash in her mind as she makes her way up the stone steps and knocks tentatively on the door.

"Come in," Remus calls.

With a deep breath, Hermione enters.

"Wow," she says as she walks in. "This is … exactly the same as it was ten years ago."

The small office is back to its old décor of tanks, books, and candles which softly illuminate the room now.

Remus laughs. "I'm a creature of habit," he says. "Take a seat. Would you like a drink? I have tea, or Firewhiskey."

"Oh Merlin," Hermione groans appreciatively and sits in the sofa. "I'd love some Firewhiskey."

"I'm glad we're in agreement," Remus says, reaching into one of his cupboards for two bottles. He uncaps them and hands one to Hermione, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her.

"Thank you," she says.

"Cheers," he extends his bottle towards her and Hermione meets his sentiment, clinking the neck of her bottle with his.

"Cheers," she says.

They drink and there's a brief silence. Hermione looks at him properly. The lines in his face are etched deeper than they were a few years back, and his hair is more prominently grey around the temples. Remus always looked prematurely old, but at least now his age was more representative of that.

"I didn't know you were here," Remus says suddenly. "Don't get me wrong, it's a nice surprise but –"

"I'm just as surprised to be here as you are to find me," Hermione says. "And Neville is back, as you saw. He's our Herbology teacher now."

"Yes I had heard he was back. He has been for a few years now hasn't he?"

"Two, I think," Hermione takes another drink. "He's been great since I joined. I don't think I'd have managed to stay."

"So …" Remus clears his throat. "Why did you take the position?"

Hermione doesn't answer immediately and drops her eyes to her Firewhiskey bottle, fiddling with the label. "You didn't hear what happened?" When she flicks her eyes up, Remus' blank expression tells her that he didn't. She takes a preparatory breath. "We – Ron and I – got engaged. And then …" Another sigh. Apparently it's still an exhausting topic. "And then I guess we just … weren't."

Remus looks confused. "What do you mean?"

Hermione shrugs and gives a tight, sad smile. "We grew apart? We grew up? Everyone assumed for so long that we would be together and one day we woke up and looked at each other and I don't think either of us knew why we were together. I think a lot of it was meeting outside expectations, and Mrs Weasley was so happy when we got engaged. But we were linked by shared experience and trauma. We were comfort to each other. But we weren't in love." Hermione takes a shaky breath. Remus doesn't interrupt her. "So we broke up. And it hurt. And I needed space from everyone. The pity was … too much." Hermione shakes her head. "And I didn't want to put everyone in an awkward position between Ron and I, so I removed myself and here I am."

"Hermione –" Remus starts gently but she shakes her head fiercely, taking another drink. He understands. She doesn't want to hear another '_I'm sorry_'. Remus knows how she feels.

"Sorry," Hermione forces a laugh and runs a hand through her hair. "I didn't meant to ramble on like that. It's fine. I'm fine."

Remus gives her a smile. "I'm sure you are. And has there been any news on …?"

Hermione takes a mouthful of Firewhiskey, using the action to buy her some time. "No," she says. "I haven't heard anything from Ron since the summer. And it's a good thing. I think."

"You'll come out of this," Remus says. "Both of you."

Hermione sighs. "It's Harry I feel sorry for," she says. "It's like he's our child and he's stuck in the middle of two divorced parents."

"I can't believe he didn't tell me any of this," Remus says.

"It's not like I've seen you since the war ended," Hermione muses. "I suppose he just didn't think it was relevant to you."

Remus looks awkward. "I'm sorry I … left."

"You did what I did, right?" Hermione says. "You removed yourself from a situation to make it easier for everyone else."

"Ever perceptive," Remus says gently. "I'm glad some things never change. Another?" He indicates to both of their empty Firewhiskey bottles.

"Please. So what about you?" Hermione asks, watching Remus stand and cross the room to his cupboard. "What made you return?"

"I missed teaching," Remus tells her as he hands her a second bottle. "And I wanted to come somewhere familiar and safe. Somewhere that felt like home. Does that make sense?"

Hermione smiles sadly. "That's the thing, Remus," she says softly, and in the candlelight her eyes looks a little more glassy. "Hogwarts doesn't feel like any of those things to me anymore."

Remus thinks it might be the saddest thing he's ever heard.

"Neville says I need to fall in love with the castle again," Hermione continues. "But I don't really know where to begin."

Remus nods sympathetically. "I suppose it's hard when so much has changed. But try to see Hogwarts through the eyes of your First Years. Because I can guarantee, you'll realise the enchantment of this old place again. The Hermione Granger I taught all those years ago never stopped seeing the wonder in things."

Hermione looks down and can't help the small smile. "You're right," she says. "It'll come back to me. I think I just need a little help."

Remus reaches over and places his hand gently on top of hers. "I'm here," he says.

She lifts her eyes up to him. "Thank you."

Clearing his throat, Remus removes his hand and takes another drink. "It really is good to see you again, Hermione. You look so much … older." Hermione laughs. Properly. Remus goes red. "Shit, I'm sorry – I didn't mean – I just meant you –"

"No, don't worry, I know what you mean," Hermione says, still laughing a little. Remus notices how pretty she is when she laughs. "You look older, too."

"At this point, Hermione, I think the word is just 'old'," Remus says good humouredly.

"The war didn't age me well," Hermione says. "I think I look far older than I am. I certainly _feel_ older than I am."

"That'll be the kids," Remus says. "I swear they're getting younger."

Hermione laughs again and the years of worry and stress seem to fall off her. "They are! Were we that bad when you taught us?"

"Times were different then," Remus says thoughtfully. "And you've always been wise beyond your years."

"I think they call that being precocious."

"Maybe at 13, yes," Remus' eyes twinkle. "But now you're just … mature."

"I'm 23 now," Hermione says, her mouth turned down in disgust. "But I swear, my Second Years are hellbent on making me feel as old as Professor Binns."

"Hermione, I turned _40 _last year. And that one hurt," Remus shakes his head, pretending to look wounded. "Trust me; you're still young."

"As are you, Remus," Hermione says. "Here's to youth." They clink their bottles together again with a companionable laugh.

The atmosphere is relaxed and they've sunk back into comfortable positions on the sofa. Despite having been seated with a straight back and legs crossed at the ankles, Hermione now sits with her legs curled beneath her, her elbow resting on the back of the worn leather chesterfield.

"This is so strange," Remus says. "Sitting here with you, both of us teaching at Hogwarts, with Firewhiskey in hand." He shakes his head.

"It's nice," Hermione says. "I like it."

"So do I."

"Y'know," Hermione looks thoughtful. "I wasn't sure how I felt when I saw you walk through those Great Hall doors. I didn't know if it was going to be painful, or uncomfortable … but it's not."

"I must admit I thought the same," he says. "But this feels … natural. I suppose we always did get along well."

The candles burn as bright as they did several hours ago, and it's warm in the office. There's a lull in conversation, and they drink in a comfortable silence until the clock bells ring loudly and Hermione jumps slightly.

"Midnight," she says and finishes her Firewhiskey, the warming sensation gearing her up for the cold walk back to her quarters. "This has been lovely, Remus. It's so good to see you again."

"You, too."

They both stand and Remus steps forward to hug her but Hermione jerks back. He looks briefly stunned.

"Shit," she says, looking mortified. "I'm so sorry – natural reaction – I haven't been touch –" she slams her mouth shut, cheeks burning.

Remus steps back to give her space. "I completely understand."

Hermione swallows hard before decidedly closing the gap and hugging him. Remus is taken aback for only a second before wrapping his arms securely around her.

Hermione sighs. It's the first time she's felt comforted in months.

They step back and her cheeks are flushed.

"Thank you. For this. It's been great," she says, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Anytime. Would you like me to walk you back?"

"No – thank you."

Remus smiles. "Goodnight, Hermione."  
"Goodnight, Remus."

She smiles and turns, heading out of the small warm office and back into the draughty castle. She can still feel the phantom pressure of his arms around her. In that moment, she felt cared for and safe. Just for a few seconds.

How she has missed it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So you guys seem to really dig this, huh? I am so thankful, considering the fact that the first chapter was very nearly something that never saw the light of day. SO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE! Enjoy this chapter, team. Y'all are great. **_

Hermione wakes in the morning to the usual bell ringing for 7am. Her eyes are bleary and despite only the few bottles of Firewhiskey from the night before, her head hurts. Then again, she hadn't drunk since the night Ron left …

She sits up, shaking thoughts of emptiness and sadness from her mind and begins to mentally prepare for the new day. In a routine and still half asleep, Hermione gets out of bed and goes to shower. Under the hot water and the lather of shampoo, she feels her muscles awaken and the sleep washed from her eyes.

Last night had been … well. Last night had been great. Hermione thinks about it now: the comfortable companionship, the laughter … the hug. She can still feel the pressure of someone's arms around her again, holding her tight and safe. She had rested her head on Remus' chest and closed her eyes, just for a second, feeling secure and comforted.

Christ, she was starved of affection.

Hermione steps out of the shower and wraps herself in a towel. She stares absently at herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth. The sparkle behind her eyes was dulled months ago and there are still heavy shadows underneath them.

Pushing back pining thoughts which are clearly deep rooted from a summer of emotional and physical neglect, Hermione spits the remnants of toothpaste into the sink and wipes her mouth.

"Pull it together, Granger," she mutters to herself firmly.

Remus is an old friend, ex-teacher, and new colleague. He was being friendly last night. They were merely comforting each other. No need to get so weird about it.

Hermione pads back into her room and uses her wand to perform a quick drying spell on her hair. She pulls on her usual clothes; a long skirt and a blouse that she tucks in at the waistband.

Ignoring the mirror, Hermione makes her way out of the room and down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She's greeted with the warmth of the hall and the welcoming chatter of students just waking up. It's barely even October and already some of the seventh years are already slumped at their tables, head resting on their arms with self-filling pitchers of black coffee next to them.

"Good morning, Professor Granger!" Neville says sunnily when she approaches the top table.

"Morning, Neville," Hermione can't help but smile. Neville has that effect on her. Part of the reason she's stayed. Part of the reason she's managed to keep it together. "Morning Professor McGonagall," she smiles at the Headmistress.

"Morning Hermione," McGonagall says. "How are you this morning?"

"Not so bad," Hermione says as usual. It's true. It's not so bad, really. Certainly could never be as bad as it was …

She takes her seat beside him and Neville pours her coffee.

"How was _your_ evening?" He asks with a mischievous tone.

Hermione smirks. "It was very amiable thank you," she says primly.

"Uh huh," Neville says. "Anything to report?"

"I drank Firewhiskey for the first time in months," Hermione says. "That's probably the most scandalous thing that came out of the evening. Stop being so suggestive."

Neville laughs. "I'm just toying with you," he says. "I'm glad you had a nice evening."

"How are the mandrakes?" Hermione asks to direct the conversation back to a safer ground.

"Bothersome," he sighs, spreading marmalade onto his toast. "They're going through a spot of acne and it's not pretty."

Hermione giggles and her eyes flick up as the Great Hall doors open again to reveal Remus Lupin making his way to the table with a spring in his step.

"Remus certainly looks _very_ chipper," Neville mutters.

"_Behave_," Hermione hisses as she drives an elbow into his ribs.

"Good morning, Hermione," Remus smiles. "Morning Neville."

"Morning Remus," Neville says. "How was your first night back?"

Remus takes a seat beside him. "Very strange to be back in my old quarters," he admits. "But the company was very nice. Did you get back okay, Hermione?"

"Oh yes!" Hermione says and cringes at her overly eager tone. "Thank you."

"Mind passing the coffee? I've not taught a class in years and I'm nervous as all hell."

"You'll be grand," Neville assures him, passing him the jug. "You'll settle back into it in no time."

"Neville's right," Hermione adds. "If I can do it, you certainly can. And you always were the best professor we ever had." From her right hand side, McGonagall clears her throat slightly and Hermione blushes. "I – uh – mean best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," she amends with a panicked expression to Neville and Remus who snigger into their coffee cups.

The bell rings and the students begin to disperse to their lessons.

Remus downs his coffee and stands up. "First year class," he says. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Hermione and Neville say in unison and wave his retreating back.

"What you doing now?" Neville asks.

"Marking," Hermione rolls her eyes. "I've got my fifth years for second period and they're not going to be happy with me."

"Harsh marker, Miss Granger?" Neville tuts. "Never would have expected it from you."

Ignoring him in good humour, they say their farewells and part ways. Hermione heads back to her office and is interrupted midway through with a tap at her window.

Through the diamond paned glass, a beautiful tawny owl locks eyes with her. Getting up, Hermione opens the window to let the bird in, and it hops onto her window sill with a letter in its beak. She takes it from the owl and cocks its head at her. "Thank you," she hums, stroking the tawny feathers. The handwriting is instantly recognisable:

_Passing through Hogsmeade! Fancy meeting for lunch?_

_G. xxx_

On the back Hermione quickly pens:

_Sounds great! See you at the Three Broomsticks at 12.30. Xxx_

Handing the letter back to the owl, and after a few more seconds of enjoying affection, it hops back out of the window and flies away. Hermione seats herself back at her desk with a thrill of excitement at seeing her oldest friend. Even despite the break up, Ginny never compromised her friendship with Hermione over her brother. It couldn't have been easy, but she never made Hermione feel guilty.

Another hour of marking passes and the bell rings for her next lesson. Scooping up the scrolls, she heads to the classroom.

…

Hermione liked the routine of bells and timetables. They had provided structure and security throughout her school years, and now into her career. It was stable. It left very little to go wrong and she found comfort in that.

Perhaps she had used up all of her adventurous fire in her teenage years. Events like that were enough to satiate anyone's desire for the unexpected.

The third bell of the day rings and like clockwork, her students stand.

"Bye, Miss Granger!" They chorus.

"See you next week," Hermione smiles. "Oh – and _please_ do your homework. I'm not covering for you with McGonagall again!"

"Aw _Miss_," one of her fifth years, a tall boy who played one of Gryffindor's beaters on the Quidditch team, throws her a charming smile. "But you were so convincing last time!"

Hermione smirks. "Nice try, Nathan," she says. "You lot are lucky I'm not always stuck to the rules."

"Yeah, everyone has to have a day off," Nathan winks and everyone laughs.

"That kind of bravery is best saved for the Quidditch pitch, Harper," Hermione says in good humour.

"Bye, Miss!"

They leave and Hermione follows them out, heading straight for the Entrance Hall for the escape _out_ of there.

By all accounts, Hermione wasn't suffering at Hogwarts. Her quarters were roomy and comfortable, she was fed three meals a day that she didn't have to cook, and her students were perfectly fine.

But there was something so much less … _stifling_ about being outside the castle walls. It was sad, really. The bubble she felt the safest and most at home in her most formative years were now the ones she was so desperate to run away from. Yet here she was.

On the walk into Hogsmeade, Hermione revels in the change of scenery. In the pub, she takes a window seat and has barely settled into it when the front door opens again and Ginny sweeps in, long red hair swept upwards in an effortless topknot and a mid-length floral dress hugging her figure. Despite growing up a tomboy, moving out of a house dominated by boys and being thrust into the public eye as a Quidditch player when they left school had changed Ginny into an unmistakable beauty.

"Mione!" Her smile lights up her face and Hermione stands to hug her properly.

"Gin!" Hermione holds her at arms-length. "You look gorgeous!"

"Thank you!" Ginny drops a critical eye over Hermione's own appearance.

"Don't even," Hermione stops her. "I've had a rough few months."

Ginny nods. "Of course," she says. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Hermione says. "I _am_," she insists when Ginny raises an eyebrow. "How are you? How's Harry?"

"He's good, and I'm good," Ginny smiles. "We're both busy but it's been good."

"I'm so happy for you both," Hermione says. "I need to come and see you both over Christmas."

"Absolutely! Before we go to the B—" Ginny stops in her tracks with a look of panic.

"Gin, it's fine. Before you go to the Burrow, of course. I'll come when they break up here. Don't look so horrified, nothing has to be censored around me."

"Ugh, I _know_. I'm sorry. The way Mum is reacting, you'd think there was a death in the family," Ginny says. "Which, I guess there has been."

Hermione shifts in her seat. "I'm still alive," she says. "Not my fault if –"

"No one thinks it's your fault," Ginny quickly assures her and reaches across the table to grip her hand. "Everyone just wants to know you're okay. And I think Mum would really like to know from _you_ that you're okay. You're still part of this family whether you like it or not."

Swallowing hard, Hermione clears her throat. "So shall we order?"

"Yeah."

They go to the bar and order food before heading back to the table.

"So what's it like being back?" Ginny asks.

"Prison," Hermione says deadpan. "I'm kidding. Sort of. It's fine. It's just … strange. It's taking time to settle in. The first week I was there I forgot about the trick staircase on the Fourth Floor and how it takes you into the abandoned link between the Sixth and Fifth floors and I thought I was going to just die up there."

Ginny snorts into her drink. "You remembered the sticky step on the Third Floor bit of staircase though right?"

"Almost," Hermione says. "Watched one of my first years have their ankle engulfed into it and had to help her. Bless. That castle is a death trap."

They sip their drinks in companionable silence for a few seconds.

"Remus is back," Hermione says. "But I assume you already knew that."

"Harry had mentioned he had been offered the position but wasn't sure if he would take it. I guess he has," Ginny shrugs. "I think it's the best move for him. Both of you."

Hermione frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Ginny starts carefully. "It might do you some good to be somewhere familiar doing something you're good at … and being around an old friend who's gone through similar issues."

"I suppose," she says.

"And it might be an opportunity for you to meet someone new, too," Ginny winks.

Hermione laughs derisively. "Sure," she says.

"Oh don't be like that," Ginny scolds. "All it would take would be –"

"Ginny, I'm not interested. I'm healing at my own pace."

"Sure," she amends. "But that doesn't mean you have to dress like an old widow. Heartbreak doesn't mean you have to completely reinvent yourself. You haven't dressed like this for years. I mean really. You look like you've inherited your mother's old clothes."

"Christ, Ginny. I only came for lunch and a catch up."

"I know – but this comes from a place of love. Do everyone and yourself a favour and at least take pride in how you look again, because this isn't you anymore. You're shrinking back into your old self who doesn't want to be noticed. Take your time getting over Ronald, but don't waste your time in getting new clothes. Please."

Hermione manages to laugh. "There's more to life than vanity."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny sighs. "Don't give me that. You know _exactly_ what I mean. You're 23 but you look about 50. It's not cute."

And she's not ready to admit it now, but Hermione knows that she's right.

They eat together and when it's time for her to leave, Hermione pulls Ginny into a hug outside the pub. "Thank you," she says.

"You feel thin," Ginny comments.

"God, you're turning into your mother."

"Hark who's talking," Ginny says. "At least I'm not dressing like her."

Hermione laughs properly, the sting of being called out so shamelessly being soothed by Ginny's genuine love for her. Friends can say things that no one else can get away with.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

With a last smile, the girls squeeze each other's hands and Hermione waves as Ginny turns on the spot and disapparates back home.

Back at Hogwarts, the day passes as usual, and before she knows it, she's back in the Great Hall for dinner.

Seating herself beside Neville, with Remus next to him, they huddle in conversation.

"Good day?" Remus asks them.

"Not bad," Neville heaves a sigh. "One of the mandrakes bit me so I had to put it on a time out."

"I saw Ginny today," Hermione says.

"Oh that's great – how is she?" Remus asks.

"She's good," Hermione muses. "Blunt as ever."

"What do you mean?"

"Tore apart my dress sense," Hermione manages a laugh to cover her embarrassment as Neville laughs.

"Thank God Ginny did it," Neville says. "I didn't want to be the one."

"Don't be so _mean_," Hermione says, still laughing.

Remus opens his mouth and she immediately cuts over him. "Remus, I know you're about to say something very sweet, but she's right. I've been dressing like someone I'm not."

"Is it really that big a deal?" Remus frowns. "I happen to think it matters more what's on the inside than the fancy packaging."

"Ah, Professor Lupin, an _excellent_ point," Hermione says. "But alas. I stopped dressing like I wanted to go unnoticed a long time ago. I started to take pride in what I wore. It's important to me, I think."

"Not wrong," Neville says. "Hermione developed a truly brilliant sense of style. Next thing I know, she's turned up here looking like she's aged about thirty years and dressing like my grandmother."

Remus laughs. "Well I think her personality shines through. And grief does hit us all in different ways." A solemn atmosphere descends briefly. Hermione bites at her lip and Neville clears his throat. "Sorry," Remus says. "That was tone deaf."

She waves a hand. "Don't worry," she says. "So tell us more about your parenting of the mandrakes then, Neville."

With a grin, Neville is all too happy to oblige.

…

Dinner finishes and they all get up to leave. Outside the Great Hall, Neville bids them goodnight but Remus lingers.

"Shall I walk you back?" He offers.

Hermione raises an eyebrow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, _Professor_," she teases. "But I don't think my quarters are anywhere near yours."

"Interesting," Remus humours her. "Clearly my memory of castle is a bit rusty."

"Ah," she says. "Well in that case, I think you _should_ walk me back, if only to rekindle your memory."

"It would be my pleasure."

They start walking together and before Hermione can strike up conversation, Remus has already started.

"God," he says. "I hope you don't think I'm being a predatory old man. I just realised how weird I'm being."

Hermione frowns. "I don't think that."

Rubbing his forehead, he sighs. "It's hard being alone here," he admits. "Night time is …"

"I know," Hermione says. "It's hard. It's nice to have company."

"Sorry - I'll leave you here if you like?"

"Why, Lupin – going back on your offer? What kind of a man are you?" She says dramatically, a hand placed on her chest.

Remus laughs. "You're right. Allow me to escort you, Professor Granger."

They walk together in comfortable silence and finally come to a stop outside her door. Hermione lingers. .

"Do you want to have come to my quarters this weekend? Have a proper drink and a catch up without it being a school night? It would be nice to do something other than marking," she offers.

Remus smiles. "I'd like that."

"Great," she says, returning the smile. "Goodnight."

"Night."

She steps into her room and closes the door behind her, finally feeling as if she can breathe. Being alone is both so sad and yet so freeing these days. Not being around anyone allows her to drop the mask so people don't pity her, and not being observed constantly takes the pressure off. But she doesn't feel that way with Remus. They both lost their other halves. There's a mutual respect for their kind of loss.

She reaches to take off her shirt but pauses, and turns to the full length mirror that she usually so vehemently ignores. Looking at her reflection, she studies herself properly for the first time in a long time. The clothes drown her petite figure and she looks like a little girl dressed from her mother's wardrobe.

Maybe Ginny was right. Maybe it was time to reclaim her femininity again.


	3. Chapter 3

The alarm that wakes her doesn't shake her to her bones this morning.

It had been almost a week since she'd seen Ginny, and how the week had _dragged_. Every morning, though, Hermione found herself in a slow but steady upward climb.

Opening her eyes now, Hermione manages to sit up with her new found determination – today was the day she stopped hiding beneath plain clothes and wanting to slowly disappear. It had taken a few days, but she knew Ginny was right.

Her best friend had usually been her defining compass in most things – during their final year after the war, Ginny's fierce determination and fire was enough for both girls to push through those painful terms at Hogwarts.

After the break up, Ginny would march into Hermione's room and wake her with coffee before all but throwing her into the shower and getting her dressed. Hermione wasn't sure she'd have made it without her.

She showers now, and gets out to dry herself. Instead of a lazy drying spell and a haphazard top knot, Hermione reaches into the back of her cupboard for a half empty bottle of Sleek Easy which she pours into the palm of her hand and smooths it over her hair. The effect is instant; her usually mildly frizzy curls are tamed and fall below her shoulder blades – much longer than she realised.

The biggest challenge would be her clothes. She left a lot at the Burrow, bad memories woven into the fabrics. The ones she'd taken to Hogwarts were all she had at her family home. But there must be something that fell through the cracks – she hadn't always been so bland and boring.

Hermione roots through her wardrobe desperately, and then tries her trunk. At the very bottom, screwed up so small she almost would have missed it, is a powder blue dress with short sleeves and a flattering neckline.

She slides it over hear head and it falls just above her knees. She smooths her hands over the fabric, the lack of a ring on her left middle finger still coming as a jarring surprise. Her hand feels empty without it sometimes. Swallowing hard, Hermione looks at herself. She's … attractive. The pale blue lifts her complexion and even the styling of her hair has helped.

Of course, there's still the echoes of pain in her eyes and the dark circles, but all in good time. Feeling nervous and unsure of her new look yet also somewhat empowered, Hermione makes her way down to breakfast and seats herself at the top table next to Neville who whistles.

"And she's _back_, ladies and gentlemen!" He announces. "Christ, Hermione, you are _killing it_ this morning! Minerva! Isn't Hermione _killing it_?!"

"You look very nice, Hermione," McGonagall says kindly.

"Neville, _shush_," she laughs and feels herself flushing.

"Absolutely not, you've been hiding that figure for months and it's nice to see you looking your age."

"Simmer down and have some coffee," Hermione can't stop the smile on her face despite the attention she's getting from other faculty members who've overheard Neville's overzealous cheerleading.

"I think the coffee might be the problem," Neville sighs, looking into his freshly empty coffee cup.

Hermione pours Neville and herself a cup of tea, and when she glances up, she sees Remus is heading to the table. The flutter of nerves take her off guard and she forces them back down.

"Neville," he greets. "Hermione … you look lovely this morning."

"Thank you," she smiles.

"Do I look lovely this morning, Remus?" Neville asks playfully. "I wore a new bowtie and everything."

Remus laughs as he takes a seat. "My apologies for not noticing, Neville – your bowtie was an _excellent_ choice this morning. I must ask your advice for new ties. Mine are all a bit outdated."

"It would be my pleasure."

They fall into comfortable conversation together and soon it's time for their first lessons.

Hermione stands. "Right, gentlemen. See you both later."

"Later," they say in unison.

She slips out from behind the top table and as she's walking down the middle of the Great Hall, she hears a wolf whistle which can only be from Neville. With the hall mostly void of students, she flicks her wand behind her and the noise of fireworks and Neville's raucous laughter tells her that her aim was, as usual, perfect.

"GREAT AIM, PROFESSOR GRANGER!" He calls to her retreating back.

Hermione giggles to herself, turning around before she exits the room and blowing Neville a kiss to where he's in a fit of laughter with Remus.

The smile on Hermione's face lasts well into her first lesson of the day.

…

Part way through the day, Hermione finds herself with a spare hour and debates on what to do. She can't get Ginny out of her head – the seed had been planted that she needed to write to Molly Weasley. It was something that had been spinning round her head for weeks, but she hadn't found the bravery to do it yet.

But Ginny's head on approach made it harder to ignore.  
So Hermione sits down and pulls out a quill and fresh parchment. _Dear Mrs Weasley_, she begins, but stops. Too formal.

With a sigh, Hermione discards this and stares at a new sheet of parchment before finally beginning properly:

_Molly,_

_Sorry I've not been in touch sooner. The last few months have been painful, and I'm sure you already know but I took a last minute teaching position at Hogwarts as Transfiguration professor when McGonagall decided she didn't want to teach alongside her Headship. So far, the role has been challenging but enjoyable. _

_Being back at Hogwarts has also been challenging but in different ways. Despite this, I'm settling in with the help of Neville and Remus. And I'm getting three meals a day, so don't worry! (Not as good as your cooking, though.)_

_I'm sorry for everything. I know it's not been easy on anyone, least of all you. I'm sorry again for leaving it this long to write you. _

_I hope you're well, and love to everyone. _

_Hermione. Xxx _

_P.S. I think I left some of my nicer clothes there – if it's not too much trouble, could you possibly send them over?_

Sitting back from the letter, Hermione heaves another sigh. This time, it feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. A small one, but a weight nonetheless. Calling her owl, Hermione attaches the letter and watches the bird fly off. She hopes Molly will be sympathetic.

But how could she not be. Hermione was family. _Is_ family, Ginny reminded her. And everyone knew Hermione wasn't to blame for what had happened.

To distract herself from the bad memories which begin to bleed out of their tightly locked box, Hermione heads to her next class. She keeps her head down when she passes certain tapestries or portraits that tug at old wounds, reminding her of the Golden Trio days. Sometimes she swears she can almost hear their old childish rings of laughter echoing in the laughter of her students. Sometimes she catches snippets of Ron's dry wit and Harry's equally deadpan humour. Sometimes the flash of red hair from a boy in a Gryffindor uniform will have Hermione so floored that she stops dead in her tracks until the present day catches up with her.

There are ghosts everywhere.

…

The day had passed in a drag, as Fridays are prone to do, and when the final bell rang, Hermione had heaved a sigh of relief. Dinner was the same – she sat with Neville and Remus in companionable conversation until the end of dinner when she had lingered back to talk to Remus.

"Are you still up for doing something this weekend? Or tonight, even? It's not a school night so I figured if you're not busy you might want some company –" Hermione realises she's babbling. "Or something." She feels herself flush.

Remus' looks amused. "Well I don't know," he pretends to think about it. Hermione's stomach drops before he has the chance to say anything else.

"No! No don't worry – I'll see you –" in embarrassment, Hermione makes to leave but he catches her wrist.

"Wait!" Remus quickly drops his hold. "I'm sorry – my sense of humour is a bit off peak at the moment – I shouldn't have been so deadpan."

Hermione lets out a nervous laugh. "Sorry – I shouldn't be so touchy."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Look at us. We're being so ridiculous. Let's try this one again shall we? From the top!"

Hermione laughs properly. "Remus," she says. "Do you happen to be doing anything this evening?"

"Why, Hermione," he says with faux contemplation. "I am not."

"Marvellous. How would you like to come over to my quarters around 9pm and I'll break open a bottle of whiskey I've been saving for a special occasion?"

"Sounds delightful. See you then."

"See you then."

With stoic nods at each other, both in keeping with the bit and utterly committed to it, they leave and go off their separate ways.

Once in her quarters, Hermione waves her wand as a speed clean, watching as clothes fold themselves back into drawers and bottles around her sink stand themselves up and hop back into line. She lights the fire and pulls out two whiskey glasses from a small cabinet next to the fireplace, pouring a generous measure in both of them. She sets the glasses on the coffee table and lights a few candles with her wand.

The clock shows that Remus will be here in ten minutes. There's a flutter of nerves in her belly that she's not felt for a long time. But it's just readjusting to spending time with Remus as a colleague and equal. Neville is a brilliant friend, but Remus understands something deeper. The desire to run. The need to heal wounds in peace.

The devastation at losing a part of you which was never really yours.

The chiming of bells rouses Hermione from the dark corner of her mind and the knock on her door jolts her back. He's here.

She opens the door to find Remus stood there with a bottle of wine in hand.

"I know you said you have whiskey," he says. "But I couldn't turn up empty handed."

"Good job too," Hermione says. "Else you wouldn't have been allowed in. But seeing as you abided by the unspoken rule, welcome in."

Remus laughs and she stands aside to let him in.

"Have a seat," Hermione gestures to the chesterfield in front of the fire. "I've poured you a drink already."

"Very hospitable," he smiles, sitting down and picking up a glass. He swirls it around before taking a drink. "Good choice," he says appreciatively.

Hermione sits beside him at the other end of the sofa, her own glass in hand. "Isn't it," she agrees. "It was a birthday present which I was saving, but now is the perfect occasion to open it."

"And why might that be?" Remus asks playfully.

"The return of an old friend and the return of my dress sense," Hermione says. "Cheers."

"Cheers," they clink their glasses together and take a drink. "That dress looks lovely on you," Remus says. "Not that you didn't look nice before. But it suits you." His cheeks flush a bit pink. "Christ I'm terrible at flir–" Remus stops and clears his throat. "I don't mean flirting," he amends quickly. "Not that I wouldn't like to – not that I want to – or that I don't – ah _fuck_."

"Thank you," Hermione chooses to save him from his clear embarrassment. "It's nice to feel like myself again."

"How are you finding Hogwarts now?"

She sighs and looks down at her glass. "I see the castle in ruins sometimes," Hermione tells him. "Sometimes I hear things and I see things from that time and I just want to curl up into a ball. But the worst part has been Ron. One of my seventh years is tall and gangly with red hair, and sometimes when I see him I get a bit choked up." She shakes her head and looks away in embarrassment. "God I sound so _stupid_. Ignore me. It's the whiskey."

Remus's face softens. "You're not stupid. I think you're suffering with PTSD," he tells her gently.

It's not exactly ground-breaking news, but Hermione feels validated at hearing someone say it out loud. She closes her eyes and feels tears running down her face. "_Thank you_," she breathes.

"For what?" Remus takes her hand and she holds it tight, her eyes still shut.

"I knew I wasn't losing my mind," finally, her eyes open and Remus is looking at her with empathy and understanding. There's no pity. No patronising that she has come to so loathe from people. Just … equality.

"You're not," he assures her. "You went through a lot, so young. It's amazing that you're still this well-adjusted."

She gives a soft snort of derision. "I don't think _this_ is what anyone could call 'well-adjusted', Remus."

"Well," he says. "I happen to disagree with you. See, you get out of bed every morning and you get ready. You come to the Great Hall and you play your part and every day you seem to be more and more settled."

"That's just it though," she says. "I feel like I'm pretending, all the time. It's exhausting."

Remus cocks his head thoughtfully. "Are you pretending now?"

Thoughtfully, Hermione takes another drink. "I don't know. I don't think so. But maybe I am?"

"I don't think you are."

"How do you know?"

He gives a half shrug. "I've known you for a very, _very_ long time, Hermione. I like to think I know when you're putting on an act and when you're not."

Hermione swallows hard. "Do you think you know me that well anymore?"

Remus looks taken aback. "Sorry," he says curtly. "I shouldn't assume."

"No – I'm sorry," she heaves a sigh. "I'm defensive. A lot. I didn't mean that."

"No I guess you're right. I don't know you that well anymore," Remus searches her face and locks her eyes with his. "But I'd like to."

Downing her drink, Hermione stands and crosses over to the drinks cabinet. "Well what would you like to know?"

Remus also finishes his glass and Hermione fills them both up. "What should I know?"

Another sigh. Hermione sits back down. "I suppose you want to know about Ron."

"Not if you don't want to talk. I would imagine you've have to tell a lot of people the same story and I know how tiring it is."

"Actually … no one really knows. I mean, people know _why_ it happened. But …" she trails off and looks off into space. She shakes her head. "Not now. Sorry."

"Understandable."

They're quiet for a minute.

"How do you cope?" Hermione asks quietly. "When …" she stops suddenly, looking at him for any kind of reaction. He smiles encouragingly.

"You can say it," Remus says softly.

"When Tonks … was killed."

Remus releases a huge breath. "Thank you … for saying her name. No one does anymore. It's like she was never here. And I didn't cope for a while. I drank a lot and slept … well. I didn't."

"I understand."

"I know you do," he says. "But sometimes you have to move on. Tonks stays with me. It's been five years and I wasted a lot of them in ways that Tonks wouldn't have wanted me to. It gets easier. I still miss her, but it gets easier."

Hermione nods. "I know she'd be proud of you. I miss her too."

They share a smile.

"Ron left me," she says suddenly. "No one knows that. Not really. But he left. Everything I told you before is true – we did wake up one day wondering why were still together. But he … made the final cut. It's for the best, but … I do still love him."

"Of course you do," Remus says. "That's normal."

"We were entwined for so long I don't think I knew who I was without him. I think I'm so good at playing a part because I felt like I did it with him for the benefit of his family for years. We were the perfect performers." She shakes her head. "Sorry – this sounds –"

"Hermione, _stop apologising_," Remus says fiercely, grasping her hand. "You do that every time you start to open up. You're allowed to feel things. You're allowed to talk about them. You're not pretending anymore."

His thumb runs over her hand and passes the empty space on her ring finger. She could almost burst into tears.

"The man who gets to marry you will be lucky. And you deserve someone who is truly and _madly_ in love with you. Not for convenience, not for a show, not for comfort. You deserve that."

"Remus, that's very kind of you but –"

"No. I won't hear it. Drink your whiskey and remember who the hell you are."

Hermione laughs. A single tear rolls down her face as she laughs, and Remus pretends he doesn't see it.

…

Three weeks pass and September bows into October. The castle's chill permeates through every piece of clothing Hermione owns – especially the ones Molly had sent her along with a lovely note which made her cry and a parcel of her homemade pumpkin pasties – Hermione's favourites.

Almost every night, Remus and Hermione spend the evening in each other's quarters. Slowly, they build up a friendship deeper than anything they ever had. They learn each other's stories and quirks.

Tonight is a night like most of the others. Except its different. The past weeks have made them both so comfortable with each other, and oh, how Hermione craved the closeness of human affection.

The fire burns low now, and the atmosphere has turned heavy and hot. They're closer than normal on the sofa, Hermione's legs are curled beneath her and her knees are lightly touching his thigh. It's electric.

Remus is telling her all about some prank they pulled on McGonagall in his Marauder days with James and Sirius, and they're leaned in together conspiratorially, heads and bodies bowed in to each other in their own little bubble. Hermione watches him talk and the way his eyes light up when he's telling a story.

She can feel herself being pulled even closer to him and she gives into the magnetism. Remus mirrors her and he finishes his story, making both of them laugh. The laughter dies and the silence is loaded.

Realising how close they are, Hermione clears her throat and hesitates: should she move away? Remus hasn't. Indeed, he's leaning in just as much as she was. But it's tense. Is she reading too much into it? Is this a good idea?

Their mouths are so close now and Hermione feels as if she is on fire with anticipation. How long had it been since she had been kissed? Long before her and Ron broke up … _stop thinking about that now_, she scolds herself.

"Ahhh," Remus leans back suddenly and Hermione feels like cold water has been poured over her head. "Hermione …"

"I know," she says quickly. "I know, I know. Don't worry." Standing up, Hermione moves to put some distance between them with the sofa.

"No, Hermione, listen to me –" Remus stands too. "I … you're young and very vulnerable and –"

"God, _please_, don't make this worse, Remus," Hermione begs. "Don't do the whole 'you're X, Y and Z, _but_' speech. Let me have more dignity than that."

"You're right," he says. "Will you come back over here, please?"

Hermione hovers.

"Please?" He asks again.

Hermione slowly steps from around the chesterfield and comes to stand in front of him. Refusing to look at him, she stares defiantly at the floor.

Sighing softly, Remus tips her chin up to him.

"Will you please look at me?" He whispers.

She lifts her eyes to look at him. Remus takes her face in his hands and looks at her. She can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

"Kiss me?" She barely manages to get the words out.

Remus doesn't say anything, and for a minute, she doesn't think he's even heard her.

"I … can't," he says eventually.

"Of course," she says.

"I'm –"

"I don't want to hear it, Remus," she says heavily. With difficulty, Hermione steps back from him and pushes her hands through her hair. "I'm tired of 'sorry'."

"I know you are. I – should know better."

They look at each other from across the room. The atmosphere is sparking. All she wants is to go to him and she's pretty sure he feels the same. But they don't. They stay exactly where they are.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," Hermione says, avoiding eye contact.

"Can we talk about this?" Remus asks.

"I really don't want to do this now. I feel … I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush and I hate it."

Remus sighs. "You're not a schoolgirl. You're a woman."

"You said I'm young."

"I shouldn't have said that. It was patronising."

Hermione doesn't argue.

"Goodnight, Remus," she says.

"I don't want to leave like this," he says.

She hesitates before finally crossing over to him and hugging him, hard. He wraps his arms around her and they stand in each other's embrace. Hermione's head is tucked under his chin and she feels so safe. So secure. She can't help herself. Maybe it's the whiskey, maybe it's the loneliness. But she plants a light kiss on Remus' neck.

She doesn't expect the low growl that responds to her kiss. Remus' arms tighten. Hermione kisses his neck again, this time harder and more deliberate.

"_Fuck_," Remus holds her at arms-length looking visibly flustered. "Hermione … you're going to start something you can't finish and I can't restrain myself."

"Then don't," she says.

"Hermione, I am going before you regret something happening. Goodnight," he manages to laugh, putting her at ease. He isn't angry.

With a kiss on her forehead, Remus has left and Hermione is alone again and craving his touch all over again.

She doesn't even feel ashamed.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Well hello there, team! How are we doing from our places in quarantine? This is a crazy time for us all and I know that content (both creating it and consuming it) is pretty vital for our sanity right now. Are we all sitting comfortably in self-isolation? Good. Then I'll begin. **_

Reaching for a croissant, Hermione has a flash memory from last night and immediately feels like all her organs have folded in on themselves with mortification. _Why _did she think it was a good idea to tell her old DADA professor, who is now a colleague, to _kiss her_? Where had her dignity disappeared to. Clearly, Firewhiskey made her far too bold.

But now here she was in the Great Hall with Neville and every time some walked in, Hermione found her head jerking up to see who it was and her stomach twisting with anxiety.

It's only once a group of giggling Ravenclaws have walked in that Neville huffs.

"_Stop_ being so jumpy," he scolds her. "That's the sixth time you've done that and every time you do, I spill my coffee. _What is wrong with you_?"

"I'm _sorry_," Hermione hisses. "Has Remus already been in this morning?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "Why?" His eyes go wide at her pained expression. "Oh God, what have you done?"

Hermione groans and drops her forehead into the palm of her hand. She can barely look at Neville. "I uh …" she clears her throat and drops her voice. "I asked, well, rather – _demanded _that Remus … kiss me."

"You did _what_?!"

"Neville, _shut up_," Hermione kicks him under the table.

"Christ Hermione," he releases a breath. "All I said was that you were killing it in that new dress, you didn't have to start seducing the nearest compatible male, too. Why wasn't I a contender?"

Hermione considers strangling him. "You're not helping."

"Sorry," he clears his throat. "So … Did he kiss you then?"

Hermione feels her face burning. "No," she barely manages to tell him. It's not helped that Neville sucks in air through his pursed lips.

"Ouch," he says. "I bet that one hurt."

"Uh huh," Hermione groans. "Yep, it did."

"Well you've not shrunk back into your old frumpy clothes at least," Neville shrugs.

"_Neville_."

"I'm just saying! Buck up and have a coffee, Granger," he pours her a fresh cup and pushes it in front of her. "And don't rub your face, you'll give yourself wrinkles."

Reluctantly, Hermione drops her hands from her face and instead wraps them around the hot ceramic of the mug.

"So how did you leave it with him?" Neville asks.

"I … kissed him on the neck and then he left," Hermione mumbles very quickly.

Neville laughs. "Well now your jumpiness is making sense. Look, Remus was probably _very_ flattered and _very _conflicted."

Hermione frowns. "Why conflicted?"

Neville rolls his eyes. "Are you really this obtuse?" When she doesn't reply he sighs. "He watched you grow up. You're working together as equals for the first time, and you're recently single."

This last one stings. "Yeah," Hermione says. "I guess you're right."

"He'll come down," Neville says, buttering another slice of toast. "He never misses breakfast."

Feeling slightly comforted, Hermione relaxes and sips her coffee. There's still a tightness in her chest which refuses to budge no matter how deeply she tries to breathe through it. But the minutes tick by and still, Remus doesn't appear.

Finally, it's 11am and almost everyone has left the Great Hall.

"Oh, God, what if he's avoiding me?" Hermione says when it's just her and Neville left.

"He's a grown man," he says. "He isn't avoiding you."

They get up from the table and dawdle into the Entrance Hall.

"Shall I go and see him?" Hermione wrings her hands together anxiously.

"Merlin, _no_," Neville catches her hands in his and holds them steady. "Come to the greenhouses. Help me feed the Mandrakes. They'll be happy to see a new face."

Hermione hesitates and relents. "Alright," she manages a smile.

"Atta girl."

Hermione follows Neville down to the greenhouses where she is immediately enveloped with the thick warm air and the heavy smell of soil. She feels herself relaxing.

"Merlin, I love how warm it is in here," she says. "It's bloody freezing outside."

"Well it is October," Neville says distractedly as he peers into one of the Mandrake pots with a frown. "Why are you sulking?" He asks it. "Come out and play."

"Do you think Remus hates me?"

Neville pulls on some worn gardening gloves which Hermione recognises as being made out of dragon hide. "Woman, let it go. You asked him to kiss you, he said no, you kissed his neck and then he excused himself. How bad can it be?" Neville straightens up to look at her with his head cocked to one side. "Actually, listing it out loud does sound pretty bad."

Hermione groans. "What do I do? Should I go and apologise?"

"_No_," he insists. "Doing that just makes it into an even bigger deal than it needs to be. Just chill out and let him come to you like a baby deer. Don't spook the baby deer, Hermione."

"I think I've already spooked the baby deer," she sighs. "Why did I _do _that?"

"Loneliness, desperation, lust," Neville begins. "He's attractive and so are you."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Neville thinks for a moment as he moves between the long tables of potted Mandrakes. He sprinkles some more soil into a few of them and picks up a watering can. "I don't think you're stupid at all," he says. "I think you're a little lost, but who isn't."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

"I'm not trying to lead you in any direction. I would only advise to be aware about what you want and why."

Hermione thinks this might be simultaneously the most and least helpful advice she has ever received in her life.

…

It's been two days now.

Hermione has been going down to the Great Hall early in the morning and staying right until the very end just to make sure she isn't missing him … but Remus is still nowhere to be seen.

It's on the third day that she cracks.

"I'm going to see him," she says decidedly one morning at breakfast. "This is making me crazy."

"_No_," Neville grabs her hand in an attempt to pin her to the table. "Leave the poor man alone, I'm sure he's fine."

"And you don't find it a _little_ odd that Remus has been missing for days now?"

"Well –"

"Exactly," she says. "So I'm going to check on him. Make sure he's alright. Like any good and respectable colleague would do."

Neville sighs. "Fine," he says. "I suppose you do have a point."

Hermione positively beams at the validation. It's a Saturday morning so she doesn't have classes to worry about. "I'm going now," she says.

"Alright. Let me know how it goes. Good luck," Neville says. "I'll tell the Mandrakes you love them."

"Please do," she says. "Give them some extra fertilizer from me."

"They will be wholeheartedly grateful."

Hermione gets up. "Right. See you later then."

"Good luck," he replies. "I'll be thinking of you."

She exits the Great Hall and makes her way to Remus' office. The closer she gets, the more anxious she feels and her heart is in her mouth as she makes herself knock on the heavy wooden door.

For a few seconds there's no answer and Hermione is about to leave when she hears a weak but discernible: "come in."

She hesitates for a moment longer before determinedly pushing the door open. "Remus?!"

"Oh hello," Remus manages the ghost of a smile from his place horizontal on the sofa, a book hovering open above his head. "I had hoped you wouldn't see me like this."

"I'm – " Hermione wavers, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry – shall I leave you?"

"Please don't," Remus pushes himself into a sitting position with what appears to be great difficulty and plucks the book out of the air, setting it down on the table beside him. "I'm bored as anything in here. Please, don't look alarmed. Come in. I'd offer you a cup of tea but I'm embarrassed to say I'm not quite strong enough to get up."

Snapping out of it, Hermione steps into the room properly and closes the door. She moves around the chesterfield and stands by his side. "Would you like me to make you some tea?"

Remus smiles. "Please."

She sets about making tea and after a few minutes, she sets a steaming mug on the small table by his head.

"Thank you."

In the candlelight his eyes looks sunken and dark and his complexion appears waxy and sickly.

"Christ, Remus," Hermione says gently, lowering herself to her haunches as she holds her mug carefully in one hand. "You look terrible."

"I'd imagine so," he sighs. "My transformations seem to be getting worse with every passing year. I don't bounce back from them as quickly anymore."

Hermione could kick herself. _Of course_, she thinks crossly. _The man is a fucking werewolf and you were so self-absorbed you thought he was avoiding you_.

"I am so sorry I wasn't here sooner," Hermione says. "I …" she blushes furiously. "I thought you were avoiding me after …"

Remus cuts her off. "Hermione, I can assure you I would never do that to you. I shouldn't have isolated myself."

"What about the Wolfsbane potion Snape used to make for you? Have you been eating?"

"Don't fuss," Remus says good naturedly. "Madame Pomfrey has since learnt to make an excellent Wolfsbane potion and she's been bringing me soup. I might be able to keep my humanity, but the transformation is still harrowing. It's been a bad one this month."

"I am mortified," Hermione shakes her head. "I'm so sorry for how I behaved the other night and for not checking on you and –"

"Miss Granger, if you say 'sorry' one more time, I will be very cross with you," Remus says and reaches for his tea.

"Noted," Hermione says. She straightens up. "Shift over," Remus moves himself to the back of the sofa to allow her to sit beside him. "So how are you feeling?"

"Better," he admits. "I look worse than I feel."

"You've got no strength to stand."

"Well there is that, too."

Hermione laughs. "Why didn't you just _send_ for me? I'd have been here."

"I wanted to," Remus admits. "But I was ashamed for you to see me struggling."

"That's so ridiculous."

"I know," he says. "But you're here now. I was worried you'd be angry at me."

"Remus, I'm only angry at myself."

"Please don't be."

They share a comfortable silence as they sip their tea by the warmth of the fire.

"When will you be back teaching?" Hermione asks eventually.

"Monday," Remus says. "I can't wait. It's no fun in here."

"We will all be glad to have you back in the Great Hall," she says. "I will, certainly." After a moment Hermione clears her throat. "Can I get you anything else? Something to eat?"

"I really am fine, please don't worry," Remus laughs weakly. "Thank you though."

"Please don't do this next time. Just … tell me."

"I've never been good at asking for help," Remus admits quietly. "This is just something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember. I hate dragging other people into it."

Hermione thinks that might be the most heart-breaking thing she's ever heard. Her hand moves on its own accord and rests on top of Remus'.

"You're not alone anymore," she says.

He smiles. "I know."

She stays with him for two hours until she notices his eyelids growing heavy.

"Have a nap," Hermione tells him. In the few hours she's been there, their dynamic has settled back into their old comfortable routine, with the events of the other night all but forgotten.

Remus nods. "Sorry," he says wearily, stifling a yawn.

"Professor Lupin, if you say 'sorry' one more time, I will be very cross with you," Hermione teases. Remus manages a weak smile before his eyes are closed completely and his head has sunk deeper into his pillow.

Hermione waits for a few minutes until Remus is properly asleep. His breathing is heavier and she can't help noticing how much younger he looks when he's asleep and the weight of living isn't resting on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Who knew quarantine would make me so productive? Glad you guys are continuing to dig this fic. Hope you're all staying safe and inside. Enjoy!**_

"Look," Neville is in the throes of a soliloquy and Hermione knows better than to interrupt him. "All I'm saying, is that it might be a perfect time for you to date. Nothing serious, y'know, but just a start. Just _something_ to get you back into it again."

"I don't know," Hermione says. "I don't even know where to begin. How do people _meet_ each other without already having been at Hogwarts with each other. I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"As a bachelor myself," Neville says in a long suffering tone, with makes Hermione stifle a giggle. "I can take you to the hotspots of Hogsmeade."

Hermione looks unconvinced. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that there is a prevalent dating scene in _Hogsmeade_?"

"Absolutely!"

"… is it any good?"

Neville shrugs. They've reached the Great Hall now and he drops his voice slightly. "It's not _bad_. It's just a bit of fun."

Hermione wavers as they reach the top table where Remus smiles at them.

"I'll think about it," she mutters to Neville as they sit down.

"Good morning," Remus greets them cheerily.

"It's so good to see you again!" Neville says. "How are you doing?"

"Much better," Remus admits.

Hermione can't argue with him. His cheeks are flushed a pale pink and his blue eyes sparkle again. It's a stark contrast from the husk of a man she saw on his sofa a couple of days ago.

"Glad to hear it," Neville says. "Tea, Hermione?"

"Please," she says. "You look better, Remus."

"Thank you," he says with a gentle smile that crinkles around his eyes. "It's good to be back."

They eat their breakfast together and it feels good to have their little trio reunited. Hermione enjoys the ease in which they chat and laugh together. After the awkwardness of last week, a part of her anxiously wondered if it could ever go back to how it was, or whether she had crossed a line that they could never come back from.

_You're ridiculous_, she scolds herself. _Not everything is about you_.

"You alright there, Granger?" Neville rouses her from her thoughts. "We just asked what you had planned this week."

"Oh, sorry," she says. "Nothing exciting as usual. How about you two?"

"It's _Halloween_ this week," Neville rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Hermione hits her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I'm not with it this morning. Uh – I don't know. Still nothing?"

"Well the staff always have a Halloween party so I don't know about you two but _I'm _going to that," Neville says.

"Goodness, are they still doing that?" Remus asks. "The last one I went to was … well I don't actually remember much of it."

Neville and Hermione ogle at him, the novelty of being younger returning at the idea of their former teacher being involved in binge drinking whilst they had innocently slept in their student dorms. "What?!"

Remus gives a reminiscent laugh and the twinkle in his eye has returned. "Oh yes," here he raises his voice. "Remember that, Minerva?"

The headmistress turns her head to the trio and peers at them over her spectacles. "Remember what, Remus?"

"The year of the Halloween staff party when I was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts all those years ago."

McGonagall can't help the smirk that reaches her lips. She lifts an eyebrow. "I certainly do," she says good naturedly. "And if I remember correctly, _someone_ had to be carried off the table after singing Celestina Walbeck's 'Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love' and given a very sobering concoction before being escorted to bed."

Hermione and Neville dissolve into laughter so loud that the students nearest the top table have turned to look at them curiously.

"That," Neville manages to say between heaves of laughter. "Has to be the best thing I've ever heard."

Hermione wipes tears from her eyes. "Thank you for that, Minerva," she chuckles. "I needed that."

"My pleasure," McGonagall smiles before dropping her voice in front of the men just so Hermione can hear. "It's delightful to see you laugh like that again."

Hermione flushes and smiles, mouthing a thank you at the old headmistress.

It certainly is nice to laugh so freely again – her cheeks ache from smiling so much.

Breakfast reaches an end at the students file off to their respective classes. The ringing of conversation drops to a low hum and finally it's just the three teachers left in the hall.

"Doesn't anyone have a class right now?" Hermione asks.

"Oh _shit_," Neville jumps up. "My first years!" Hermione and Remus break out in more laughter as Neville downs his coffee and shakes down his robes in a hurry. "I'm coming, babies!" He races out of the hall leaving just Remus and Hermione still in fits of laughter.

They look at each other, alone for the first time since she came to see him recovering the other day.

"Hello," she says. "I feel like I haven't seen much of you for a while."

"You haven't," Remus replies. "But I have an idea."

Hermione raises her eyebrows. "You do?"

He nods. "When is your next class?"

"Not until after lunch," she says. "But –"

"Well you remember back in September when you said you needed to fall back in love with the castle again?"

"Yes …?"

"Well what better time than late October?"

She pulls a face. "When it's cold and wet?"

He shakes his head smiling. "No – come with me." He stands and warily she follows him. They walk down the empty room and into the Entrance Hall.

Slinging his hands in his pockets, Remus turns to her. He's a lot taller, even after her puberty growth spurt. And even though his salt and pepper hair ages him more than he is, Remus' pale blue eyes still glitter with the kind of youthful mischief that Hermione imagines all of the Marauders shared when they walked these halls together.

"How was your weekend, Professor Granger?" He asks.

"Uneventful," she shrugs. "Boring. Lonely," she adds with a sidelong glance at him. "How about you?"

"Much the same," Remus admits, apparently missing or deliberately ignoring her apparently poor attempt at … was it flirting? Even she wasn't sure anymore. "I only managed to get out of bed yesterday morning and spent the day tending to my plants."

"Your plants?"

"Oh yes," he nods eagerly. "I have a jungle of my own that I have raised them since they were tiny. I'm currently nursing a Venomous Tentacula that I'm especially fond of."

Hermione smiles. "I'm hopeless with plants," she admits. "I forget about them. They don't tend to last very long."

Remus chuckles. "Good job you've got a green-fingered friend like Neville then," he says. "Which reminds me – he said I could drop by his greenhouse and pick up a special soil blend that he's been perfecting."

"Sounds very involved," Hermione says. "My books don't demand this kind of attention from me."

Remus hums thoughtfully. "Not always as fun to be around though."

Was _he_ flirting? As terrible as Hermione was at being able to determine when she herself was flirting, she was even more impossible when faced with someone else.

"So where are you taking me?" She says, trying to bring the conversation back to safer ground – or at least a turf that she felt more stable on.

"So impatient," Remus shakes his head. "All in good time."

As they head over the stone bridge, Hermione wraps her cloak tighter around her against the bracing wind. "Such foul weather," she huffs. "I can't even imagine what you're going to show me that would change my mind about this place."

"Ah yes, Professor Granger," he says with a sly smile. He drops his head down to her ear and his warm breath makes her shiver. "But you forget … I made up a quarter of those who wrote the Marauders Map."

Hermione struggles to retain a solid thought.

They walk companionably and Hermione lost her bearings somewhere around the third floor and since then has just been blindly following Remus as he twists and turns through corridors and staircases that she is certain she has never seen before.

Finally, he turns to her in a doorway. "Close your eyes," he says.

Hesitantly, she obeys him. In the darkness, she feels him take hold of her hands and gently lead her forward into the room, step by step.

"No peaking!" He says. "Almost there …"

Hermione continues to move slowly at his guidance until he gently places a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Okay," he says finally. "Now you can open your eyes."

Hermione opens her eyes and looks around her.

"Oh …!" She breathes. It's a stunning little room tucked away in the castle. They're high up – Hermione can tell. The room isn't very big, but the high ceiling stops it from feeling claustrophobic. The rich mahogany floorboards look tired and pockmarked from years of use, and Hermione can't even tell what the walls are like as they are obstructed by rows upon rows of _books_. Hermione is in awe.

"Look out of the window," Remus smiles.

In a daze, Hermione walks over to the large diamond paned window and kneels in the cosy window-seat which has been decked in plush velvet cushions, the colour of red wine. Beyond the warped glass, Hermione can see the early morning autumn sunshine glittering over the lake in a pale orange. The sky is clear and washed frosty blue. The leaves on the trees look like they've burst into flames of amber, crimson and ruby. As the brisk wind rattles them and their leaves flutter in the breeze, it looks like wandering embers from a fire.

"It's …" Hermione, for once, is at a loss for words. She swallows hard. "It looks like magic," she manages finally.

Remus is stood behind her and looks at her silhouette. She's lit up with the warm natural light from outside and the sun gives her a glowing apricot outline. He clears his throat.

"So tell me again how miserable October is," he asks playfully. When she turns back to him, her eyes are full of tears. His face falls. "What is it?" He asks, coming up close to her and wrapping her up in his arms.

She gives a watery laugh. "How embarrassing, I'm _so_ sorry!" Hermione pulls away and wipes her eyes fiercely. "This … this is amazing. This room and that view ... it's stunning."

"Why are you crying? I'm so sorry I didn't mean –"

"No! It's not you – I," she takes a deep breath. "October … makes me ache. It makes me feel so alone. It's drawing closer to winter and I'm on my own and it feels cold and empty. It reminds me that I'm …"

Remus nods. He sits on the window seat beside her. "I … I understand. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"Please – I'm sorry for getting upset. This is beautiful. This has really made me fall back in love again," she blushes. "With the castle." She adds.

"It really is something up here, isn't it?"

"Where are we?"

"Ah, Professor Granger," the mischievous glitter is back in his eyes. "I can't reveal _all_ my old secrets to you."

"That's not fair!" She replies indignantly. "Look at all these books begging to be read!"

Remus laughs. "I'm winding you up," he says. "We're at the very peak of one of the third floor towers."

She blinks. "I didn't even realise there _was_ a third floor tower."

"That's because you didn't spend months mapping out every single flagstone, tapestry, and secret passageway in this castle."

Hermione laughs. "No, you're right."

"I used to come here a lot by myself," Remus says. "I used to just come here to enjoy the seclusion. The boys were great but … they could be a _lot_ sometimes." Remus laughs quietly.

"Yeah I understand that," Hermione says. "Harry and Ron used to drive me crazy sometimes. Unfortunately they cottoned on pretty quickly that I used the library as my safe space. I could have done with a place like this."

"Well now I'll share it with you," he smiles. "Two self-isolating bookworms together."

Hermione laughs. "That sounds great," she says. "Thank you."

The bell signalling the end of the first round of classes rings and it jolts them out of their bubble.

"Ah," Remus sighs. "I'd best be off. Got a load of hormonal fifth years to teach."

"I don't envy you," she smiles. "Thank you for showing me this. You're right – October isn't so bad."

…

Halloween rolls around in a sigh of rain and bitter winds.

That evening, Hermione joins the other teachers at the top table and can't help the child-like joy that is triggered from seeing the Great Hall decked out in floating pumpkins, the enchanted ceiling showing a stormy night sky.

The feast is as magnificent as she always remembered and the company of Neville and Remus has her laughing the whole way through. Truth be told, she is intrigued by the notion of a staff Halloween party. It was something that when she was a student she never could have _dreamt _went on behind closed doors by the members of faculty that she so greatly respected. It was, admittedly, naïve of her.

But now, Hermione was excited. She hadn't been to a party since her and Ron had their engagement party at the Burrow. It had been a nice evening aside from the argument, but that was really nothing all that significant for them. Barely a single day went by at that time without the two of them coming to blow about something or another.

The ghosts of her past drift off with the Hogwarts ghosts who drift through the hall, chatting to students and each other.

A familiar face emerges from the plate of jacket potatoes and Hermione jumps.

"Miss Granger!"

"Sir Nicholas," Hermione greets. "Good to see you!"

"And you, my dear! You look radiant!" The ghost floats upwards, shimmering in the candlelight.

"How are you, Sir Nick?" Hermione asks. "Have you been any more successful in your application to the Headless Hunt?"

Sir Nicholas heaves a theatrical sigh. "Alas, no," he says. "But I remain hopeful."

"Oh! And a very happy Deathday to you, before I forget!" Hermione adds.

"Always such a polite young lady," he bows low, making sure to keep a hand on his head. "I shall leave you to your festivities. Good evening!"

The ghost turns and floats back down the hall and Hermione goes back to eating. Neville shudders from beside her. "I'll never get over his head," he mutters. Hermione giggles.

The feast passes and once the children have left, McGonagall stands and turns to the teachers. "Heads of Houses," she begins. "If you could check on your respective houses and take the chance to change if you will. We will all meet back here in an hour."

They all begin to disperse. Remus, Neville and Hermione hover in the Entrance Hall.

"Right," Neville says, shaking back the sleeve of his robe to show his watch. "Everyone, let's synchronise our watches. We shall meet back in this very spot in _exactly_ 45 minutes."

"Roger that," Hermione nods solemnly.

"Yes, _sir_," Remus says.

"Understood," Neville continues. "I have some mandrakes to put to bed and a fancy new bowtie to don. See you in a bit!"

"Bye!" They chorus as he leaves.

"Do you have a fancy outfit in store for tonight then?" Hermione asks as they begin to walk together.

Remus laughs. "Absolutely not," he says. "What about you?"

"So impatient," Hermione teases. "All in good time!" They slow down outside her quarters. "I'll see you soon," she says.

"How will I manage?" Remus says.

Laughing, Hermione shuts the door and turns to her wardrobe.

Since she starting making more of an effort with her clothes again, Hermione found she was actually enjoying planning what she was going to wear. And she knew that she had the perfect dress for a staff Halloween party already lurking in her possessions.

She takes a quick shower, dries her hair and applies Sleek Easy before heading back to her closet and pulling out the dress. It's a tight black velvet number, hugging her hips and pooling on the floor with a flattering (and very low) V-neck and corset tie at the back.

She got this dress last year for some event with Ron that she never even ended up wearing it to. So it had stayed hidden in the back of a wardrobe for goodness-knows how long until Mrs. Weasley had sent it back to her a few weeks ago.

Hermione wriggles herself into the dress and has to use her wand to tie it up at the back. She looks at herself in the mirror and is shocked to see that she looks … attractive? But there's something missing and she realises that it's makeup. Does she even have any anymore? She stopped wearing mascara when her and Ron broke up and she couldn't get through a single day without crying. After that she had just gotten out of the habit of wearing any. But tonight was different.

Hermione roots through her trunk and finds her makeup bag at the bottom. And much to her surprise, there's a tube of mascara, a simple eyeshadow quad, and a tube of red lipstick which was almost definitely one of Ginny's.

With an old muscle memory, Hermione applies her makeup: a smoky grey eye with a swipe of silver glitter, mascara, a bit of blusher to bring her face back to life, and the finishing touch of red lipstick.

She hesitates: is it too much? For a few painful seconds she considers wiping it all off and leaving her face bare, but her inner voice (which was basically just Ginny's voice) told her not to and to go down to the Entrance Hall and have a great time tonight. Knowing how disappointed her best friend would be with her if she removed red lipstick, Hermione slips her feet into a pair of black heels (had they _always_ been this uncomfortable to wear?) and heads out of her room.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: It took a while but I like to think I've made up for it with this chapter. It's so important to provide a positive escape during this time, and I hope this is some of yours'. Much love. Enjoy!**_

"Oh my _God_," Neville's jaw practically hits the floor as Hermione turns the corner and comes into view. "You look _amazing_!"

Hermione feels herself blushing. "Thank you," she says coming to stop in front of the two professors. "You both look very handsome."

Remus and Neville are both wearing robes of emerald and sapphire respectively. Neville has donned a bowtie with small plants on it, and Remus' hair looks tidier than it did before.

From behind the doors of the Great Hall, they can hear the muted tones of a gramophone playing.

"Well," Hermione says, smoothing her hands over her thighs nervously. "Shall we go in?"

"Absolutely," Remus speaks for the first time, seemingly startled out of his stupor. He offers Hermione his arm. "May I?"

She slips her arm through his and offers her other one to Neville who takes it.

"Remus, I hope you know how lucky we both are right now," Neville says. "Walking in with this lovely woman between us."

Hermione digs her elbow into his ribs.

"We certainly are lucky," Remus agrees. He drops his voice. "Very lucky indeed."

Hermione glances at him and he smiles. The three of them walk into the Great Hall and she is enchanted all over again by the stunning décor – Hermione feels the same awe that she did when she arrived here in her First Year over a decade ago. It feels special. The candles in the floating pumpkins burn low and they conjure flickering shapes on the stone walls. The rooms looks both eerie and inviting at the same time, an atmosphere of tangible excitement in the air.

There aren't many professors at Hogwarts but the room doesn't feel empty by any means. Large round tables have magically replaced the usual four long ones, and are full of food, drink, and in the middle of the room sits a huge fountain of what looks like champagne.

McGonagall greets them as they walk in.

"Good evening!" she says. "You all look marvellous."

"Thank you, Minerva! You look especially stunning yourself," Neville unlinks his arm from Hermione's and offers it to the headmistress.

"Don't try to flatter an old lady, Longbottom," McGonagall says good humouredly, accepting his arm. "Although I have to say, it's not entirely unwelcome."

Hermione and Remus laugh behind them as they make their way further into the hall. They've reached the fountain. "Would you like a drink?" He offers.

"Always."

Remus reluctantly pulls his arm from hers and reaches a glass for them both, holding them under one of the golden spouts to fill them up. He hands one back and tilts his glass to her.

"Cheers," he says.

Hermione meets his gesture and their glasses chime together pleasingly. "Cheers, Professor."

They take a drink together, eyes locked over the rim of the glass. Hermione looks away and feels heat in her cheeks again but hopes that the flattering candlelight is providing her the dignity of concealing it.

Neville has wandered into another group of teachers, leaving Remus and Hermione alone together.

"So," she begins. "Is this how you remember the party?"

Remus looks around. "More or less," he says. "But we've only just got here and no one is drunk yet, so give it about an hour."

Hermione laughs. "I see," she takes another sip feeling increasingly self-conscious in her dress. The tight long sleeves make her feel constricted and Remus' gaze feels as if its burning her skin.

She clears her throat and takes a nervous sip of champagne for something to do.

"You look incredible," Remus says. "Absolutely incredible."

"Thank you," Hermione responds, avoiding his gaze. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He chuckles. "I don't even remember the last time I had to dress up for something."

Hermione swallows hard. She does. It was her engagement party. Memories sting at the backs of her eyes but she blinks them away.

"It looks great in here," she says suddenly, pulling the attention from her and onto the room. "Halloween always was my favourite season at Hogwarts. I loved seeing the Hall all dressed up."

"Really?" Remus smiles. "Mine, too."

Hermione laughs. "Good taste."

"Clearly."

They take another drink together and Neville swaggers back over to them. "Alright," he says, Firewhiskey in hand. "How are we?"

"Decent," Hermione says. "How you doing, buddy?"

Neville drapes an arm around her shoulders. "I missed you guys so I came back," he says.

"We are honoured," Remus smiles.

"Ready for another?" Neville asks.

Hermione looks down at her empty glass. "Absolutely."

…

The music plays and the champagne flows. Hermione has already drunk her way through several glasses of champagne, four bottles of Firewhiskey and a token Butterbeer which she downed with Neville for a bet.

This is the drunkest she has been since the month following Ron leaving her.

But everyone is pretty drunk. McGonagall has already headed off to bed and it's only just gone midnight. It's clear things are wrapping up but Hermione isn't ready for the party to end just yet.

"Let's carry on!" Hermione begs.

"Yes!" Neville eagerly agrees, gesticulating with a bottle of Firewhiskey and sloshing it around. "After party!"

"Remus!" Hermione links her arm with his. "After party? Yes?"

"Of _course_," Remus says.

"The mandrakes will miss me though," Neville laments. "Maybe I should get back to them."

"No!" Hermione whines. "Come with us!"

"Yes, do!" Remus says.

They're in a small group in the middle of the hall and Hermione can't stay still. She's restless and full of alcohol and excitement. This is the first time in a long time that she's felt alive.

"Okay!" Neville relents. "The mandrakes will be fine!"

"YAY!" Hermione launches herself onto him with her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Where shall we carry on the fun then?" Neville asks. "My quarters?"

"I don't mind us going back to mine," Remus says, slurring slightly. "I have a few bottles of whiskey I am more than happy to share."

"Then it's settled!" Hermione says.

They stagger to Remus' quarters and once inside, Hermione falls backwards onto the chesterfield feeling dizzy and happy. The ceiling above her seems to spin and she is only half aware of the men talking to each other and then the sound of the gramophone being turned on, music flooding the small room.

"Hermione!" Her world is suddenly jolted by Neville pulling her up off the sofa and into a standing position where she staggers in his arms. "Dance with me!"

Neville's hands are still holding hers and together they do a little dance in fits of laughter. Remus is singing along to the music whilst sloshing whiskey into three glass tumblers. He comes over and hands them out and the three of them stand in a circle, moving in time to the music and sipping ten year old whiskey from the glass.  
Hermione can't remember the last time she felt so loved.

After what could be anything from two minutes to two hours of laughing, loud and overlapping conversation, and bad dancing, Neville downs the rest of his whiskey and looks at his watch.

"It is 1am!" He slurs. "I bid you good NIGHT … or should I say … good MORNING," Neville giggles at his own joke. "Mione, you want me to walk you back?"

She looks at her full tumbler of whiskey. "I'm not wasting this whiskey!" She says indignantly.

"Rightfully so," Remus says. "Don't worry, Neville, I'll get her back safely."

Neville salutes him and staggers out of the door leaving them alone.

The music has stopped.

"Do you want to sit down?" Remus gestures to the chesterfield. Hermione kicks off her heels and hitches up her dress so she can sit with her legs curled beneath her.

"God that feels good," she moans. "I haven't worn high heels in such a long time."

"Oh yeah?" Remus is topping up his own drink and comes to sit beside her. "Why's that?"

"It's _sad_," she says.

"Why?"

She sighs. "The last party I was at," Hermione finds herself saying through the dullness of her tipsy tongue. "Was mine and Ron's engagement party."

Remus looks at her and waits for her to continue. She sighs again. "I haven't had a reason to dress up since then. And … it wasn't a happy night."

Remus' brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

Hermione looks down at her glass which she cradles in her lap. That night was supposed to be so magical. Her heart aches thinking back to it now. She begins to talk. "Ginny planned the whole thing – she was _so_ excited. And I was, too. But Ron and I argued the entire day. Badly. We weren't even on speaking terms by the time the party started and we had to greet everyone who was there to celebrate our love whilst plastering on fake smiles and pretending everything was fine." Hermione pauses and takes a drink before she continues. Her voice is a lot more stable than she thought it was going to be. "The whole night we were apart, making the excuse to ourselves that we were just mingling with other people. Everyone left and I went to bed alone. Ron slept on the sofa – he did that a lot."

"Hermione –"

"No, don't," she begs him hurriedly. "Please don't apologise, it's really okay. I'm sorry I just went off on a huge rant."

"You didn't," he says. "Thank you for talking to me."

"Embarrassing," Hermione mutters to herself. "Ginny always says I'm an open book when I've had a drink."

Remus moves closer on the chesterfield.

"I wouldn't say that," he says. "You let down your defences. And it's nice to feel like I'm getting to know you."

"Didn't you think that before?"

Remus gives her a look. He prods her teasingly. "Don't be so _defensive_," he says. "I just mean you don't talk about things like that often."

"I know," she says. "I guess I should. It's hard. The people I would usually talk to are Ginny and Harry and they –"

"Are too closely connected with Ron," Remus finishes. "I understand."

"Exactly."

They drink in silence for a moment.

"I like spending time with you," Hermione says. "A lot."

"So do I," he says. "It's nice knowing that we have each other as friends."

Hermione almost doesn't manage to stop the swift intake of breath that makes her feel as if Remus has taken a pin to the balloon of her ego. _Friends_. Suddenly, Hermione feels dizzying sober, like cold water has been poured all over her.

_Friends_. Well alright then, she thinks to herself. Friends.

She leans back in her corner of the sofa, putting space between them. "Yeah," she manages to say. "It's great having you and Neville as friends here."

It's embarrassing how proud she is of being so petty.

But if Remus feels anything in response, his years of experience are masking them better than Hermione thinks she is managing.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Why?" Hermione takes a drink and drops her eyes from his.

Remus quirks an eyebrow. "Just checking," he says and drains his glass. "Do you want another?"

"Yes," she says. "But I don't think it's a good idea. So I should go."

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?"

"I should leave you to sleep and I've already said enough."

"Have I offended you?"

Hermione blinks. "No." She's a _shocking_ liar.

He sighs and looks at his empty glass again. "We're having another," he says. "If you want to obviously. I'm not making you stay here and drink with me."

"Can I ask you something?"

Remus looks taken aback. "Of course."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"Ahh," he leans back and looks up at the ceiling, a small smile playing around his lips. Hermione can't help but stare at his mouth will a pull in her stomach. She wants to be closer to him.

_Friends_, she reminds herself. This word alone is enough to ground her.

"It's complicated," Remus says.

This isn't the first time that Hermione has heard this half-hearted excuse. "It always is," she says.

Remus stands and offers his other hand for her own empty glass. She passes it to him and their fingers brush together. The connection sparks and Hermione swallows hard. In the half-light she could have sworn her saw hunger in Remus' eyes. He turns away to the drinks cabinet and pours them a new drink. He hands hers back to her and it doesn't escape Hermione's notice that he seems to deliberately hold onto the glass for a little longer than he needs to.

"Thank you," Hermione takes a drink immediately for something to do.  
Remus wanders back to the drinks cabinet and leans back on it, seemingly giving them both space from each other.

She wonders for which of their benefit's he is doing it for.

"I suppose you do make me nervous," Remus says finally.

"Why?"

He takes a drink, obviously thinking carefully about what to say. "God, this conversation is much harder when drunk. I'm trying to be so … cautious."

"That sounds exhausting," Hermione attempts to coax a laugh out of him and she succeeds. Her heart swells to see his eyes crinkle as he chuckles.

"It is," he admits.

"Then … don't."

"I'm not sure that's such brilliant advice."

"I disagree," Hermione has regained some confidence. She takes another drink and Remus looks at her, curious and amused.

"Do go on, Professor Granger," he says.

"I think now is a perfect time to have an unfiltered conversation. It's Halloween, we are drunk, I want to know why I make you nervous because it's not fair if I don't. Wouldn't you agree, Professor Lupin?"

"Your logic is infallible as always."

Hermione winks at him over the rim of her glass as she takes another drink. He laughs again.

"You make me nervous," Remus finally comes to sit beside her again. "Because you're beautiful and brilliant. You have the most amazing mind I've ever come across and I've never felt more alive than when we talk. But I'm struggling to reconcile the woman you are now with the girl I taught. I watched you grow up, Hermione. It … it feels uncomfortable to be this attracted to you sometimes."

"So you see me as a child?"

"No! No, and that's … the point. I see you as a woman. A beautiful and brilliant woman, who I also knew as a child when I was still an adult."

Hermione knows that under normal circumstances she would be mortified by this. But there's a harder part of herself that the whiskey has nudged awake from its slumber after so many months of crying.

Instead of reacting with dismay, it spurs her on to prove him wrong. For once in a _long _time, Hermione wants something.

And she wants Remus.

Without saying anything yet, Hermione straightens her posture and slightly raises one eyebrow as she downs her drink in one. Remus swallows. Hard.

She puts her drink down on the floor before pulling back and adjusting her position on the chesterfield to face him. She runs her fingers through her hair, moving the sleek curls out of her face and pushes her chest forward a bit.

"I am a woman, Remus," she says calmly. "I was engaged. I would have been married by now. But I'm not. I'm twenty-three. I can handle myself." Here, she puts a hand on Remus' thigh. He feels warm. She feels bold.

Hermione takes Remus' drink from his hand and puts it on the floor. He seems to have lost the ability to speak, watching Hermione in a kind of trance.

In one swift movement she has her dress straining against her thighs as she swings one leg over Remus', moving herself so she is straddling him on the chesterfield, steadying herself on the back of the sofa with her arms either side of his head. He looks up at her.

Their faces are inches apart. Hermione has never felt so charged in her entire life. She looks down at Remus who seems to have run out of steam for trying to convince her otherwise. His lips are slightly parted and his eyes are hungry again.

"We …" he says.

"What?" She breathes against his ear, grazing his lobe with her teeth and feeling him stir beneath her.

Dizzy on power at having gained the upper hand, Hermione decides to push her luck even further. She places on hand on his chest. His hands are stiffly by his side. Her fingers begin their descent downwards. They're passing his stomach when Remus suddenly grabs her wrist, breaking out of his trance and meeting her eyes. His look almost black.

"I can't … come back from this …" Remus' voice is low and gravelly.

"Good," Hermione finally closes the gap and kisses him on the mouth.

It takes half a second for Remus to respond, one hand at her hair his fingertips pressed into the nape of her neck and his other hand gripping her hip so hard, Hermione thinks he might have bruised her.

She isn't complaining.

Hermione's own hands are balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him close to her. She hasn't ever felt this greedy for someone. She swipes her tongue delicately over his lower lip and Remus growls, immediately entangling his tongue with hers. They're locked together, pulling and clawing at skin and fabric, desperately trying to pull each other as close as physically possible.

Hermione kisses Remus like he is water after a drought. She needs him. She wants to feel the heat of someone else's skin against hers again. She wants Remus. She's tired of ignoring her own desires.

She pushes her hips forward against him and moans softly into his mouth. Remus pulls away to look at her again. "Fuck." Is all he says before kissing her hard again.

"Remus," she whispers his name. "Please."

He pulls away again. She pines. He gives a half laugh and catches her face between his hands. He holds her with the strength of someone who cares, and he pushes her hair out of her flushed face.

"You," he says, kissing her again. "Are something else."

"I –" Hermione begins before dropping her eyes. "I really –"

He nods. "I know."

They're both slightly out of breath.

"And you…?"

"I do, too," Remus sighs. "But –"

"Oh fuck," Hermione says. She moves off him and stands up, pulling her dress back down and folding her arms over her chest.

"Hey," Remus stands up too. His lips show the ghost of her lipstick. "It's –"

"Complicated, right?" Hermione says. "I get it."

"Please," he begs and places one hand against her cheek. She leans into the palm of his hand. He's warm. "We're friends. I … I love having you here."

This again. _Friends_. Hermione can still feel the heat of him between her legs. She wasn't so sure friends were supposed to feel like that about each other.

"As a friend?"

"Yes."

"And nothing more?"

"I didn't say that. I think it's very clear I want you – I just – are you ready? For this again? Ron left you a few months ago and you were with him for _years_. I know that pain, Hermione."

"I'm not asking for marriage, Remus," she says.

"What are you asking for?"

Hermione blinks. "You know."

"Tell me."

"I want you. I want you like I have never wanted anyone. You understand me. I feel so close to you."

"I feel the same. I just can't right now. I know you're still hurting no matter how strong you are. I know because I've been there, too."

She sighs. She hates that he might be right.

"You should date someone more … your own …" Remus can barely even get the word out and Hermione feels like her world is crashing around her ears. She closes her eyes as he finally puts the final nail in the coffin. "Age."

Even though she knew it was coming, it doesn't sting any less.

"Okay," she says simply, opening her eyes and forcing Remus to look her dead in the eye.

"What?"

"Okay," she repeats. "You only see me as a friend. I can't change that."

He refuses to rise to her. "We're both drunk," Remus says, rubbing his temples.

"I'm not drunk," she insists, turning to put her heels back on and promptly losing her balance.

He catches her and laughs sadly, shaking his head.

Hermione steps out of his arms as a show of independence. She will not let Remus know how deeply she's aching for him. His rejection hurts.

"Let me walk you back," Remus says. "Please."

"No."

"Don't be stubborn," he says. "I'm not letting you go alone."

"Why?" She asks with a roll of her eyes. "In case I throw myself into the Black Lake because you won't sleep with me?"

"Don't you even joke," he says firmly.

"Fine."

"Have you got everything?"

Hermione wants to quip about leaving her dignity on his chesterfield but decides to stop being petulant. She's not really helping her case that she's now a mature, grown up woman.

"I think so."

They stand facing each other, neither of them making any real move to leave.

"One for the road?" Remus says finally.

Hermione braves a smile. "Sure."

He pours them both a generous measure into two mugs and offers her his robe for the walk back to her quarters which she accepts. Each with a mug of whiskey in hand, they leave the warmth of Remus' room and enter the draughty corridor. Hermione secures Remus' heavy robe around her shoulders and sips her drink.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed myself," she says quietly.

"Don't," Remus says. "You didn't."

She doesn't believe him.

"I don't … want things to be weird tomorrow," she says. "I don't want to have ruined everything. You're so important to me here and I was starting to feel comfortable again and now I just –"

Remus stops walking and turns her to face him with his hands on her shoulders. "I promise you," he says. "Nothing will change. No one has to know if you don't want them to. This is all up to you. I know you can't really talk to Harry or Ginny so you have Neville. I don't want to put you in a position where you feel isolated."

"You're not allowed to reject me and then make me feel so lucky to have you in my life," Hermione feels herself becoming teary. She's clearly had too much to drink and the clock tower tells them it's 4am.

A single tear escapes and Remus wipes it away with his thumb.

They walk the rest of the way back in silence with his arm around her. When they reach her door, Hermione dreads him leaving but she doesn't say anything even though she has never wanted to go to bed alone less in her life.

At least she had been used to the loneliness with Ron.

This felt so different.

"Thank you for walking me back," Hermione says. "And for the drink." She downs the rest of it and hands him the mug along with his robe.

"You're more than welcome."

He lingers, clearly as reluctant to leave as she is.

_Fuck it_, she thinks to herself. She steps towards him, pressing her chest against his, and then kisses him again. This time it's soft and apologetic and begging all at once. Remus kisses her back equally as gentle.

"Hermione," he starts.

"I know," she says against his lips. "I know."

One more kiss and she pulls away with tears in her eyes.

"Goodnight," she says.

"Goodnight."

Hermione unlocks her door and steps into the safe and familiar space that she can call her own, closing the door behind her. She wants to sink to the floor and cry but she doesn't. Instead, Hermione boils the kettle with her wand and makes herself a cup of tea. She removes her dress and bra and feels her flesh rejoice at being liberated from the hot, tight velvet and the constricting wire of her underwear.

Instead, she digs out an almost knee length t-shirt which she throws on over her pants and takes off her makeup. She scrapes her hair back into a topknot and stares into the mirror. Her cheeks are blotchy from alcohol and makeup remover and her eyes are bleary and red.

If Remus didn't even want her the way she looked tonight … then there really was no hope for how she looked any other day. Hermione turns away from her reflection to finish making her tea. It was her hangover cure – a cup of tea before bed and everything would (mostly) be fine in the morning.

It hadn't always worked but Hermione was desperate to cling to the warm comfort of a good cup of tea that had healing properties.

Once she'd finished her tea, cross-legged in front of her fire, Hermione had downed a glass of water and brushed her teeth before collapsing into bed.

The smell of Remus' cologne has stuck onto her skin and it makes her ache.

But she has taken worse. She has taken _much_ worse.

She knows she will survive the rebuff of an unrealistic crush.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I GOT ENGAAAGED! No reason to share, I just wanted to! Enjoy the chapter, you lovely lot!

"I want to go on a date."

"Bloody hell, Mione, let a bloke eat his breakfast before you proposition him, would you?"

She rolls her eyes and sits next to Neville at the top table. She feels like death. She'd woken up at 8am in a fit of anxious energy feeling like her mouth was full of dirt and couldn't get back to sleep.

Hermione hadn't really expected Neville to even be awake, but she should have known that his love for his plant babies exceeds all hangovers.

Neville swallows his bite of toast. "Right," he says. "Run that one past me again?"

"I want," she says slowly. "To go …" here she rolls her eyes at her own desire to have her ego stroked by some random man. "On a date."

"You want me to take you out? To a bar?"

Hermione cringes. "Sure," she says. "I suppose that is what I'm asking. Introduce me to whatever tragic dating scene there is in Hogsmeade."

Neville grins. "Hermione," he takes her hand and looks at her with such sincerity. "It would be my absolute pleasure." He looks at his oldest friend properly and frowns. "What happened with Remus when I left?" He asks suddenly.

Hermione goes as red as the Gryffindor banner. "I'll tell you later," she mutters.

The Great Hall doors open and Remus enters the room. Hermione feels all the air leave her lungs and she grips Neville's knee like a life jacket beneath the table. He holds her hand out of sight.

"It's all right," he mutters without moving his lips. "I've got you."

She is eternally grateful that for all his bravado, Neville would protect her to the very ends of the Earth.

Remus sits on the other side of Neville.

"Good morning," he says cheerily. "How are we all feeling?"

"I feel like one of my mandrakes has taken up residence in my head and is permanently screaming at me," Neville replies. "How about you?"

"I'm not proud to admit that this is the first hangover I've had in a while," Remus says. He certainly doesn't look his best – sunken eyes and ruffled hair. But that was sort of just Remus on a good day.

Hermione wasn't sure what it would be like this morning. Last night she had romanticised about it – the two of them sharing a knowing look about what happened. The tragedy of him not being able to go through with his true desires.

But now she recognises it as the ravings of a drunken woman. This morning, Hermione is on so much manic energy that she could fuel a small airplane.

"How are you, Hermione?" Remus asks.

"Ah," she forces a laugh. "I'm tired. I think I'm going to go back to bed."

"Eat, Mi," Neville says, picking a piece of toast and all but shoving it in her mouth. "You'll feel better for some food."

Hermione isn't sure she believes him as she feels her stomach turn at the smell of it. She pushes his hand away. "Honestly, I'll get something later. I'm fine with tea." To prove a point she makes herself a cup and sips it whilst Neville launches into a conversation about the party last night.

Remus barely looks at her as he engages in banter with Neville. She feels invisible. Maybe she really did go too far. Was Remus right? Was there really no coming back from it? She thinks back to how she felt last night. When she sees Remus reach over for another slice of toast her brain triggers a memory of that same hand gripping her hips and pulling them right up against him where she could feel his arousal.

Her stomach flips so violently at the memory that she visibly squirms in her seat. The sleep hadn't helped. She still feels the same.

"What time did you guys finish the party?" Neville asks.

Hermione and Remus look at each other in the eyes for the first time since he sat down. It's clear she's blanked.

"Not too much longer after you," Remus says without missing a beat.

"Huh," Neville says, flashing a look at Hermione who fiercely stirs milk into her tea for something to do with her hands.

The men make small talk for a bit until Neville checks his watch and then looks apologetically at Hermione. "I've got to go for a tutor session with one of my third years. It finishes at midday though."

She smiles reassuringly. "I'll see you later."

He says his goodbyes and leave Remus and Hermione together. She can barely sit still whilst Remus is disconcertingly calm.

"Are you alright?" He asks her quietly, moving across into where Neville was sat. She can smell his cologne again – the very same one she fell asleep too. All she wants is to bury her face in his neck and feel his strong arms around her again.

He's so close she can feel the warmth of him beside her.

She doesn't answer immediately. "I'm … mortified. And my ego is bruised." She admits in a whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "Do you want to talk about this properly? We don't have to pretend like it never happened."

Hermione wants to go to his chamber. To be alone with him again. But she knows it will never play out the way her mind wants it to. He has valid points. And besides – a lot of people would have a _lot_ to say if she started dating Remus.

"Honestly," she says. "I don't think there's much else to talk about. You made yourself very clear." She braves a smile.

"Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Sure."

"Hermione," Remus drops his voice. "I don't want it to be like this."

She sighs. "I don't either. But here and now isn't the time."

The two of them seem to have only just realised that they're discussing their intimate life at the head table in front of their students.

"I want us to be friends. I don't want anything to change," Hermione says. "And that's it."

Remus nods. "Me too."

Hermione drinks the rest of her tea. "I'm going to head off," she says. "I'll see you when I see you."

He looks briefly crestfallen. "Of course."

"Bye," Hermione stands and leaves. Every fibre of her being wants to turn back around and agree to come see him later in his candlelit chamber on that chesterfield.

So she carries on walking.

…

"Ouch," Neville says after hearing her recount the night's events, sat together in his chamber. "That must have stung."

"You're telling me," Hermione says, sat on his bed whilst he potters around the room tending to his different plants. It feels good to have someone to talk to without worrying that they're immediately going to tell Ron. Neville really is her safe place.

"So you want to date? Immediately?" Neville looks sceptical.

Hermione shrugs. "I just want to go on a date. I'll never think I'm ready unless I actually try."

He nods. "I guess you're right," he says. "How does tonight sound?"

She coughs into her teacup. "Tonight?"

Neville shrugs and comes to join her on the bed. "Why not? It's a Saturday night. Tell me what else you're doing tonight?"

Hermione doesn't have an answer. She bites her lip. "Maybe I'm not ready," she says. "Maybe I should wait a bit longer."

Neville rolls his eyes. "You have just sat here for the last hour telling me how you want to go on a date because Remus told you to date someone your own age, which by the way is shitty and patronising of him."

"It is, right?!" She says. "I thought so, too!"

"Yes," he nods. "Completely condescending. Who does he think he is? Merlin, all you wanted was a shag."

"_Neville_."

"I'm not sorry," he says primly. "Come out with me tonight. Let's have some _fun_."

"I think I had too much fun last night," Hermione whines. "I'm so _tired_."

"Have a coffee and get a grip," he says. "We are going out, Granger."

She grimaces. "Fine."

"Brilliant. Let's grab some dinner and get ready. Drinks are on me."

…

Hermione tugs at the bottom of her skirt which she is pretty sure is actually Ginny's. It's definitely too tight and short for her figure which is curvier than her best friends'. But it's the most exciting thing she owns and Ginny was always begging her to show off her legs more.

Along with the skirt, Hermione has chosen a simple long-sleeved top. What do people _wear_ to go to bars? She wasn't sure she was even dressed properly, but Neville was sure to tell her.

She waits by Greenhouse 5 – their agreed meeting spot – and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She's tired. She's emotionally wrung out. Hermione knows she asked Neville to take her out when she was _definitely_ still drunk. So fool her now for Neville having taken her seriously.

"Oi, oi, Granger, looking _fit_," Neville saunters up to her.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's so cold tonight. Why don't we just drink in my room?" She tries to keep the begging out of her voice.

Unfortunately for her, Neville knows her too well.

"You ready to go?" He's ignored her question completely.

"I guess."

"Chin up," he says. "We will have a nice night. And besides, it will be nice to spend some time just the two of us."

Hermione thaws at this. "You're right," she smiles. "Maybe I need to learn how to have some fun more than just once a year."

Neville offers her his arm and she takes it. "Fuck Lupin, Hermione," he says. "If he's too terrified to take you on, there's a million other men who are up to it."

Hermione laughs. "Sure," she says.

She doesn't have the heart to tell him that Remus is the only person she can imagine being interested in.

They walk into Hogsmeade together and Hermione lets Neville take the lead.

"I'm gonna ease you in slowly," he says with a smirk as they walk up to a dimly lit bar called with a wooden sign reading_ Galleon Eyes_. "Get you back used to being out in the real world."

Hermione digs her elbow into his ribs gently and he laughs.

They enter the warm, small pub. Everyone in there is older than them and Hermione feels relaxed and grateful to her friend for not just immediately dropping her into a club. They head over to the rustic bar and Hermione removes her coat, feeling immediately warm in the cosy environment.

They order two flagons of Butterbeer which Hermione thanks Neville for. One sip and her insides feel warm and fuzzy.

"I don't even remember the last time I was in a bar," she says. "Probably when you, me and Ginny went out after graduation?"

Neville's eyes blow wide open. "Hermione that was _years_ ago!" He says. "Didn't you and Ron ever do anything together?"

She gives a snort of derision. "That would mean we actually had to spend time alone together," she says. "And the less of that the better."

"What _actually_ happened," Neville says. "With you and Ron. I heard little whispers and I never wanted to ask because I assumed you would tell me about it, but it's been _months_ and you haven't," he's speaking so fast that Hermione can tell he has been _dying_ to ask her for ages. "So what _happened_."

Hermione takes a very, _very_ long drink. It was time to finally tell someone and that someone may as well be Neville. "I'll tell you a secret," she says. "Because it's been eating me up inside not being able to tell anyone."

"I LOVE a secret," Neville is captivated and leans forward to her even closer. Their faces are right next to each other.

"Promise, you won't breathe a word to anyone," Hermione offers her pinky up to him.

He links his little finger with hers and squeezes it tightly. "I _promise_," he says.

"Ron," she starts. "Was seeing someone else."

Just like that her chest feels lighter.

Neville's eyes blow wide open and his jaw drops. "WHAT."

"I know," she says. "Shocker, right?"

"I don't … when … how … WHY?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. He came home one day and something had shifted. We cared about each other so much and I do believe that at one point we were in love, but after the engagement party … it changed. It was like the stress of knowing he had to commit to marrying me was just too much."

Neville blinks five times and then turns away from her back to the bar. "Excuse me," he says to the girl. "I would like to order four tequila shots."

"Neville!" Hermione manages to laugh.

"You deserve this," he says seriously. "So then what?"

Hermione thinks back to that night. But not for too long. "I don't think we slept for two days. We were just up talking and crying and arguing. But I knew he was seeing someone else. He let it slip a few times – just enough for me to know I wasn't crazy when I thought he was out too late, or smelling of a different perfume. We still didn't want to end the engagement because I don't think we knew how. We still felt like kids. It felt like we had been playing pretend this whole time and suddenly we just didn't know what to do."

The tequila shots appear in front of them and Neville pushes one to her.

"Bottoms up, Granger," he says.

Somewhat reluctantly, Hermione picks up the tiny cut crystal glass and a lime and in perfect unison, the two of them knock back the shot and sink their teeth into the lime wedges.

"Bloody good going," one of the portraits behind the bar is applauding them before sighing dramatically. "I remember when I used to be able to enjoy a real drink."

Hermione giggles.

"So what happened then? After that conversation, I mean," Neville is genuinely interested and Hermione has almost forgotten what it's like to open up to someone.

"We carried on for a few weeks but it was painful. We didn't sleep in the same bed, and we desperately tried to be on opposite schedules. Either leaving early before the other woke up, or working as late as possible and sneaking into the house past midnight," Hermione grips her Butterbeer. "It was exhausting. And then one morning we both ended up getting up at the exact same time at 5am and we bumped into each other in the kitchen and it was awkward and awful and I just told him I didn't love him anymore and I didn't want this to be my life. He broke down in tears and I just stood there, staring at him. I didn't have anything left in me. I took off the ring and put it on the counter and we hugged each other and he kept saying how sorry he was –" she stops taking a huge breath. Neville waits patiently. "And then I got home that night and he was … gone."

"What?!"

"He packed all his things whilst I was at work and moved back into the Burrow. The weeks after that are a bit of a blur, really. Ginny came to stay with me for a bit and Mrs Weasley used to come over every day. Harry was great, too. I just felt like I didn't exist."

"Why is this such a secret?" Neville asks.

"I don't want to humiliate him," she says sadly. "We both hurt each other a lot, and I care about him. I'd rather we gave each other the space we need to heal."

Neville nods. "You're brilliant."

She scoffs.

…

In one hour, Neville and Hermione have managed to put away an impressive amount of drinks and she is feeling almost as drunk as last night.

"I haven't MET anyone," Hermione says dramatically. "WHERE are MEN?"

Neville sniggers. "Right," he says. "I was saving this for when you were drunker but I think you're ready now. Come with me."

They put on their coats, pay the tab, and wander out in the bitter November air. Hermione links her arm though Neville's and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she says. "You're amazing."

He pats her hand. "I know."

"Where are you taking me?"

Neville chuckles to himself as he leads her down a dark, back alley. Ahead of them is a small doorway lit by a neon purple sign reading '_Bewitched_'.

"Welcome back to the dating scene, Professor Granger," Neville grins as he holds the door open. It's nothing but a dark stairwell going downwards and Hermione can hear the thumping music from below. She's excited.

They descend the shallow steps together which wind downwards until they find themselves in a hot, dingy room with large stone arches and booths set into the stone wall. The bar is tiny and the dance floor glows in all different colours to the beat of the music with smoke curling around the ankles of the avid dancers.

It's busy and Hermione feels the heat climbing up her neck immediately. She removes her coat and Neville takes it from her to hang it up.

"Bloody hell," is all she says.

"Isn't it brilliant?!"

"Neville," Hermione says. "It's _hideous_. I love it."

He laughs and offers her his hand which she takes. He pulls her onto the dance floor and they find their place between the sweaty bodies of people their age, pushing up against each other with drinks in their hands.

Hermione laughs so hard she's almost doubling over at Neville's dancing. He twirls her around and to the beat of the music she allows herself to just _let go_. Her hair flips around her face and she finally relinquishes the tight hold she's had on herself for the last several months.

Eventually the two of them collapse into a sticky leather booth, breathless and laughing.

"Drink?" Neville asks.

"Obviously," she replies.

He jumps up and heads over to the bar leaving her alone.

She feels … great. Her heart is thumping in her chest and she scrapes her hair off her face, securing it in a topknot with her wand.

"Hermione!" Neville is coming back over with a drink in each hand and a tall man beside him. "I bumped into a friend. Hermione, this is Robin. Robin, Hermione." Neville waves his hand between the two.

"Hi," Hermione offers out her hand and the man takes it.

"Nice to meet you," he smiles.

"Fancy joining us?" Neville asks, sitting back opposite Hermione and handing her a mystery cocktail which is black and glittery with bright pink mist flowing out of the top.

"Ah, I'd love to," he looks genuinely gutted. "But I'm out with a mate and he just got broken up with so I'm acting as both wing-man and emotional support."

"Of course," Neville says. "Well feel free to join us at any point!"

"Will do," Robin says. "It was lovely to meet you, Hermione."

Their eyes lock for a few seconds longer than normal and Hermione feels a flutter in her belly. He's attractive. Tall with dark hair cut short at the back and sides but thick and wavy on top. He has a strong jawline and a proud nose which might look overpowering on anyone else, but on him it looked just right.

His green eyes glitter with a youthful mischief.

He looks like a lot of fun.

Robin leaves the table and disappears into another booth.

"How do you two know each other?" Hermione asks.

"He was two years above us at Hogwarts," Neville says. "Ravenclaw and head of the Herbology club that I used to go to."

"Ah," she takes a drink. "He seems nice."

Neville grins. "He sure is," he says. "And he's single."

"So what's he doing now?" Hermione says.

"He runs a plant nursery down in Hogsmeade – it's brilliant. He experiments and invents his own soils and elixirs and plant foods."

"Sounds interesting," she says. She's actually not being sarcastic.

"Oh it is," Neville nods eagerly. "Shame he couldn't join us."

"Mm," Hermione puts her lips to the straw and takes a long sip of the drink before shuddering and pulling a face. "Bloody hell, Nev," she says.

He grins.

They sit in their booth together having loud, animated conversations over the thumping music for the next hour. It's nice having such an animated background and it's the most like her age that Hermione has felt in years. This is what normal twenty-somethings should be doing with the Saturday nights – bar hopping and dancing in clubs, not sat at home in tears with a fiancé who can't even look her in the eye.

"Hello again!"

The two of them look up to see Robin stood by the table.

"Robin!" Neville cheers.

"My friend got chatting to a girl and they'll probably leave together so I've decided to give them some space. Mind if I take you up on your offer?"

"Not at all," Neville shuffles along the seat on his side of the booth and gets out to stand beside his friend. "Have a seat, I'll go grab more drinks. Any preference?"

"Surprise me," Robin smiles.

"Mione?" Neville prompts.

"Anything but this again," she says. "You'll be carrying me back to the castle if I have another one of these.

Neville laughs and disappears back to the bar.

"So how's your night going?" Robin asks. He seems to be comfortable just left alone with her.

"It's been nice," she says. "Hanging out with Neville is always good fun."

"Yeah no kidding! So you guys knew each other since … First Year, right? Both Gryffindors?"

"Both Gryffindors," she confirms with an edge of pride.

"What brings you back to Hogwarts, then? Teaching, I assume?"

Hermione loves his eagerness and genuine desire to ask questions. He seems to care about what she has to say. "You assume correctly," she smiles. "I'm teaching Transfiguration."

"Oh, no way!"

"Yeah! McGonagall got in contact and asked if I would take over her position. She wants to have more time to focus on being a Headmistress."

"That's awesome," he says. "What were you doing before?"

"Ahh," Hermione drains the very last of her mystery cocktails to stall for time whilst her brain speeds ahead for anything other than 'I was engaged'. "I was doing some work for the Ministry of Magic," she says coolly. "I was living with my," she swallows. "Boyfriend. We broke up a few months ago now. So when I got the invitation to come back it felt pretty perfect."

Robin nods. "That sounds pretty great. Apart from the breakup – I'm sorry, that always sucks."

Hermione laughs. "It's alright," she says. "It's taken a while to get used to being back but I think I'm getting there now. Anyway, Neville says you run a plant nursery down in Hogsmeade."

"I sure do," he grins proudly. "Are you a plant lover?"

"From afar," she admits. "I keep systematically murdering all of mine. I keep forgetting to water them."

Robin laughs. Properly laughs. His eyes crinkle and Hermione notes he has nice teeth. "Well, I think you should come down to my nursery and pick a plant and I will _personally_ make sure that it doesn't die."

She pretends to mull it over. "I'm not sure," she begins playfully. "I really have no faith in myself."

"Now that doesn't sound like a Gryffindor attitude," he winks at her.

She giggles.

"Now then, friends," Neville has come back to them with a tray of six mystery shots and four mystery cocktails. "I don't mean to abandon you both, but there is a _very_ intelligent and attractive woman over there who is dying to meet the mandrakes and who am I to withhold such a desire?"

"So you pulled?" Hermione says. Robin laughs.

"Professor Granger, that kind of language in relation to women and courtship is outdated and _rude_," Neville says dramatically with a gleam in his eye. Hermione grins. "_But yes I think she might be interested_," he leans in and whispers loudly at them.

"Amazing," she says. "Well are you bringing her here then?"

"Eh?"

"These drinks," Hermione gestures to the many drinks in front of her now. "I assume you're bringing her here?"

"Oh!" Neville laughs. "No, no. They're guilt drinks from yours truly. For the both of you."

Hermione stands to hug her friend goodbye.

"Will you be okay without me?" He whispers right in her ear. "I can stay?"

"Don't worry, I'm _great_," she assures him quietly.

With a final squeeze, Neville lets her go and steps back.

"Have a _wonderful_ evening!" He winks at Hermione and heads off to where a pretty blonde woman in sat waiting for him. She smiles as he comes closer and he offers her his arm and they leave the bar together.

It's now just Robin and Hermione alone together.

"I hope you don't mind just being stuck with me," she says.

"On the contrary," Robin lifts the drinks off the tray and divides them into two. "I couldn't have hoped for anything better."

They each pick up a drink.

"Cheers," they say.

Hermione feels like her night just took a turn in the most welcome, yet unexpected way.


End file.
